


Looking for a Heart (that's not walking away)

by snowbellewells



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-07 08:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19081516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowbellewells/pseuds/snowbellewells
Summary: (Okay friends…This one is a completely new and different fic attempt for me.  Not only does it go AU from about the middle of 5b, but it changes a lot of what happened with Liam in 5x15, and while some of 5x16 and 5x17 happened, some of it didn’t.  Beyond all that, it’s putting a large focus on characters I haven’t written much before, and one that we really haven’t seen a lot of to characterize in the same way that I can work with say Emma and Killian.  Still, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and finally found that I had to give this a try.  It doesn’t explain how everything happened right away, but events will be filled in as the story progresses.  I feel like this is a bit of a mix between canon divergence and AU.  Slow burn friendship/relationship for Belle and Liam; sideline CS and others.  Should be around seven or eight chapters in total, hopefully finished before the premiere of season six.  I definitely don’t own them, just having fun imagining.  I’d love to hear what you think!!)





	1. like ships in the night

**Author's Note:**

> (Okay friends…This one is a completely new and different fic attempt for me. Not only does it go AU from about the middle of 5b, but it changes a lot of what happened with Liam in 5x15, and while some of 5x16 and 5x17 happened, some of it didn’t. Beyond all that, it’s putting a large focus on characters I haven’t written much before, and one that we really haven’t seen a lot of to characterize in the same way that I can work with say Emma and Killian. Still, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, and finally found that I had to give this a try. It doesn’t explain how everything happened right away, but events will be filled in as the story progresses. I feel like this is a bit of a mix between canon divergence and AU. Slow burn friendship/relationship for Belle and Liam; sideline CS and others. Should be around seven or eight chapters in total, hopefully finished before the premiere of season six. I definitely don’t own them, just having fun imagining. I’d love to hear what you think!!)

chapter one: like ships in the night

 

In the wee, cold hours of the morning, anyone walking Storybrooke’s town square would have seen only peaceful, vacant storefronts and the dim stillness of a little hamlet still fast asleep; or they would until they reached the library and found one solitary light burning stubbornly in the back of the building. Most residents and visitors knew the building and the sweet, brunette librarian who kept the place with pride, but even without the whole story, they also knew she had not been the same since her return from the Underworld with the rest of the heroes. The light burning in the middle of the night, and the large, dark circles under the clearly sleepless woman’s eyes when one saw her in Granny’s Diner the next morning picking listlessly at her pancakes and syrup, were only outward signs of her inner turmoil and pain. 

This particular night turned earliest bit of morning, Belle Gold sat at the circulation desk, a cup of lavender tea, which she had hoped would soothe her and induce sleep, long gone cold at her elbow, and a large, gilt-edged book open before her. In her insomnolent state, she had returned to this once-favorite story for help, but instead she found herself wishing to violently rip the pages from its spine, more troubled than ever as she huddled on the high stool pulled up to the counter to perch on as she read and wrapped her dressing gown more tightly around herself against the now-familiar questions swirling in her mind: ‘What did I ever see in this story?’ ‘How stupid could I have been?’ ‘What ever made me think I could influence anyone or be a hero?’ ‘Every attempt I’ve ever made went wrong and only made things worse…’

Shivering against the drafts of a still-chilly April night and the cold certainty that she was nothing but a fraud; so naively convinced of her pretty ideals but completely ineffectual at doing anything with them when the moment of truth had come, Belle knew rest and peace were far from coming. A tear ran silently down her pale cheek as she thought of all that had happened – the tangled, progressively darker events which made up her own story – and she sucked in a ragged breath, trying to keep it from turning into the wrenching full-bodied sob she felt rising within her. Though she had fought so valiantly hard, it would seem her tale could not possibly end in happily ever after now. All her efforts at love and bravery – at goodness – had turned to dust in her hands, crumbling like the shriveled brown flower Hades had used to taunt her after Gaston’s fall into the River of Lost Souls. 

The only thing keeping her from falling apart completely, she thought ruefully as one small, graceful hand lowered to rest protectively on her slightly protruding belly was the tiny being she had wished for so long. This baby should have been a lovely, innocent symbol of her and Rumple’s love, a living hope and second chance – for her husband, and for herself – and now Rumple would never even know his second born child. Though Belle was not sure what she had left to give this unborn babe, her hope and belief nearly dried up and vanished forever, its growth inside her was what kept her from lying down on the floor of her precious library and never rising again. All of her gumption, her resolve, her joy, were gone, deserting her as completely as they had ever filled her before, and the fact that her child would need her was all to which she could truly cling.

Eventually, just as the dark night turned early morning and lightened to grey, and the faintest traces of sunrise began to streak the sky, Belle’s head lowered, the side of her face coming to rest on the printed page of the book she had so loved once upon a time, her impossible, idealized version of a hero pressed to the soft, pale skin of her cheek as she slumped over the counter in a restless sleep…

As she dreams, she is once more in the Underworld, brought by the man she has tried so hard to win back from the Beast within – the pressing roar in his ear of magic and power – the man who, despite it all, she has never ceased loving, to the very throne of the Lord of the Dead. Rumple’s hand clenches her forearm so tightly it hurts, and she realizes with stark clarity that even the Dark One is no match for a deity. Rumple is sorely afraid, though he doesn’t let his outward appearance show it.

From there, the moments progress like an inexorable nightmare. So soon after her inadvertent actions against Gaston, things already seem hazy and unreal; she can barely comprehend the showdown forming between her husband and Hades. Fire and light shoot back and forth, crashing against one another in the middle and neither attack striking its intended target.

Winded, panting, nearly falling to his knees with exhaustion, Rumple finally raises a hand in surrender, as she runs to support him and help him back up, seeing the drained former spinner without his precious might and the upper hand. Putting a bracing hand beneath his elbow, she steadies Rumple as he stands once more and intends to do so as he moves forward, until he turns to her, bringing them to a halt.

Meeting Belle’s eyes in that moment, Rumplestiltskin’s gaze shows pain and infinite regret; only somewhere beneath those emotions is the love lingering for her, love that she had always wanted to believe would triumph over the Dark One’s lies. “I am so sorry, Belle. For so many things…” he whispers brokenly, the back of his hand stroking her cheek as lightly as the mere brush of air in a breath, as if hesitant to hurt her more than he has already. “I have put you through more pain than any love should have to bear…only to have it all come to this in the end.”

Pulling his gaze away from her face, Belle sees her husband’s eyes slide back to meet the god’s controlled, implacable stare and subtly shifts forward to stand in front of her, partially shielding her from Hades’ view. Her heart is swept up in pride for him at this moment of real, selfless bravery, even as it then breaks when his next words sink in. “Very well, Hades,” Rumplestiltskin hisses, sounding as reptilian and menacing as Killian has always insisted, his sharp eyes flashing even as he concedes. “You know that I cannot best you, but with the powers of the Dark One and its immortality, you cannot end me either. Let Belle and our child go, and I will serve you by finding you a replacement soul, one that will prove much more satisfactory than a mere infant.”

The silent air crackles around them, and Belle opens her mouth to cry out, “Rumple, no!” and pull him back, both terrified at what the Lord of the Underworld might do, and horrified anew that Rumple could once more offer up another person’s soul as if it were his to barter, even as she had thought for once he was making a heroic sacrifice. But she feels his fingers curl around her even more firmly, and a tingle runs up her whole arm, holding her in place, words bottled in her throat no matter how she tries to force them out, until she realizes that Rumple is using his magic to hold her back and keep her silent. Emotions rise in a confusing swirl, and Belle is not sure if she is moved by his desperate bid to protect her or impotently furious at his overriding her free will.

Hades tilts his head to the side, coming closer as he studies his nemesis calculatingly. “Let me see,” he mused, wearing a face that gives the sense of bored unconcern, even Belle with no magic or powers beyond human intuition knows the god is toying with his prey – if pressed, she has seen much the same look on Rumple’s face too many times as the Dark One. “An intriguing proposition,” he drawls out the words slowly, as if tasting the flavor of some delicacy on his tongue, “…but do I believe you?”

“You would do well to take me seriously,” Rumple vows, iron in his voice and threat on his tongue. “I may not win, but you will be battling me until the judgment day, neither of us able either to triumph or to pass on.” He steps forward as well, standing taller with a hint of the malice that shows at the heights of his power, limp nearly unnoticeable as he meets Hades and reaches out his hand. “You want to take this deal, trust me,” Rumplestiltskin asserts, nearly baring his teeth as he does so. “I will be your right hand, Hades – if you spare my wife and my unborn child, never to trouble them again.”

Hades tilts his head, studying the Dark One with amused curiosity as if he is some new species the deity has never seen before. “I’d be a fool to trust you for even a moment,” he replies coolly, “and I know you will only serve me as long as it takes you to find an escape. Yet…” he takes a moment to muse as if there is no trouble or threat at all, Belle resenting all the while that he can balance all their lives in his hands while appearing not to have a care in the world. Finally, he gives a quick, decisive nod, his pondering resolved. “If I’ve already gotten what I need from you by then, why shouldn’t I be free of your tiresome, disloyal presence?”

Belle is sure there is some horrible drawback, some hideous fine print somewhere which has been missed – added to the fact that Rumple is bartering someone else’s soul for their safety – and she hates being forced to stand idly by, no one paying her any mind. Her husband moves to shake the god’s hand, and she begs silently, regardless of whether either of them can hear, “No, Rumple, please don’t do this! There must be a better way!”

Without deviating from his original intent, Rumplestiltskin leans even more toward the Lord of the Dead, not allowing himself so much as a glance at her, solely focusing on Hades, alert for any move or threat from his dangerous adversary. Their hands meet in between, as if to shake on the arrangement, and a burst of magical power so ground shaking shoots out sparks, tossing both Hades and Rumple apart. It topples Belle to the ground, momentarily blinded by the white hot flash and breathless from the impact, her awareness shattered. For a time, she knows no more, and when she comes back to herself, she is lying on the moving floor of the library elevator they had taken down to Hades’ inner sanctum, and the door is sliding open to reveal the Underworld’s version of her beloved haunt. As the lift reaches the top and halts, Belle sees that she is also utterly alone…

A few scratching sounds and a thump against the outer door of the Storybrooke Library, followed by the sound of something metal picking at the lock, the doorknob rattling, and an accented male voice calling her name hopefully, before the tell-tale sound of the lock clicking free, awakens her just a couple of hours later, still early morning, but light now. She hears the sound of more than one pair of booted feet striding toward her as she blinks dazedly and surfaces from the flashback-dream and her tormented rest. Shooting upright quickly, hoping they haven’t seen her pathetically asleep where she fell, Belle nearly loses her balance and topples off the stool she’d been perched on. Wincing at the pain in her lower back from sleeping in such an awkward position, Belle tiredly rubs her eyes and tries to focus on her early visitors.

Only a second later, she registers Killian Jones’ voice jovially greeting her as he walks toward her across the open entryway and also hears the low, warm chuckle behind him from Liam, his revived older brother. She had been introduced to him as they were all working together to leave the Underworld, but she has not had much occasion to be around him since, and so she is surprised by his seemingly easy good humor, and the sparkle in his eyes that much resembles the one she’s often seen in Killian as they’ve researched some Big Bad threatening the town or discussed favorite books over lunch.

Startled, she lets hesitant brown eyes come to meet his friendly, open gaze and gives what she hopes is a welcoming smile as she teases Killian in hopes of keeping his usual perceptiveness from picking up on her disheveled, unhappy state. “What brings the Jones brothers to my library at the crack of dawn?”

Killian flashes her a devious wink, before nodding his head to her briefly in a playfully slight bow, “Ah, but wouldn’t you like to know, Lass?” he teases. His voice is bright and jovial, and there is a happy twinkle in his ocean-blue gaze that has been absent in many instances where she has seen him appear dazed or haunted since his return to life and the world above. She simply has to return the mischievous grin – happy for this former enemy who has become a true friend, proud of him (though it may not be her place) that he has found the strength Rumple never quite mustered to change for the better, make right the wrongs within his power to mend, and became the man he was always meant to be.

Tilting her head to study both of the men before her with friendly curiosity, she begins checking in the small stack of books Killian has carried in with him to return. Liam meets her eyes but doesn’t speak, his smile warm and friendly, but his general bearing more restrained than his younger brother’s. They certainly resemble each other – well-formed, strong features, straight noses and piercing eyes – but Liam is a bit taller, slightly broader of shoulder, and with fairer hair beginning to grow out enough to show curls that Killian’s straight, dark, shaggy locks don’t possess.

Deciding to get to know the intriguing man before her a bit better, Belle chooses to ignore Killian’s baiting and glances at his older brother from beneath lowered lashes. “And what about you?” she asks softly, “Do you enjoy reading as much as Killian does?” For some reason she has to fight a tremor in her voice as the words leave her mouth, and a thrill of nervous awareness racing up her spine as Liam Jones’ lips angle up into a fuller smile.

“Aye, Mrs. Gold, I do indeed,” he replies, with a succinct, definite nod of his head as he steps closer, right up to the counter of the circulation desk between them, while Killian wanders away into the stacks to look for new volumes. “We share our love of the written word, ever since I first taught him to read when we were boys, though Killian has always tended more toward daring adventure tales, epic fantasy and the like. I’m a bit of a history buff myself – love learning how kingdoms rise and fall and how leaders are formed. There is much to garner from such real events that have come before.”

Belle bobs her head in an excited nod, warming to the topic as she leans over the counter, absorbed by his words in spite of herself and forgetting the pain and confusion of the dream vision to a more pleasant topic. “I know exactly what you mean! There are so many good records, biographies, accounts of battles, journeys, and expeditions – it’s amazing to learn what that must have been like, to imagine traveling alongside such great adventurers when such momentous enterprises were being undertaken.” She pauses to draw in a breath, having begun to speak quickly in her excitement. Amusement shines in the look Liam Jones levels at her across the desk, but understanding and a sort of relief that intrigues her glows from his expression to warm her as well.

Belle makes an impulsive decision in that moment, wanting to share something she still loves and finds joy in with someone else who has weathered and survived much and clearly loves it too. Moving to stand quickly, with the intent to take Killian’s brother to their nonfiction section and show him some of her favorite tomes, Belle forgets for a moment how much her subtly widening stomach throws her off balance and pitches forward as she slips off the stool, then cries out softly as overcorrecting to catch herself pulls at her back painfully.

Liam is around the counter and at her side in an instant, one hand on her arm to steady her, the other coming to rest at her waist. “Steady on, Lass. Easy there,” he murmurs with soothing concern.

Killian darts back out form where he’d ventured, good arm full of novels and brows pinched together with worry. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks.

Belle shakes her head, offering Liam a grateful smile, even as she blushes in embarrassment and also feels warmth flood her at his contact with her body. She tries to calm both of them – conscientious, old-fashioned, chivalrous gentleman through and through – and step away. “N-nothing. I’m fine. Just lost my balance is all. …Th-thank you though, Captain Jones,” she adds sincerely to Liam. Unthinkingly, she raises her hand to her neck which feels cramped and stiff as well, wincing slightly before she even realizes.

Killian, observant as ever and an especially intuitive friend when it comes to her, notices her moving gingerly and guesses at her sleeplessness, speaking gently as he touches his metal appendage to her shoulder and impels her to look back up at him simultaneously. “Still not resting, Love?” he asks, already seeming assured of the answer. “You’ve been sitting at that counter all night, haven’t you?”

Sheepishly, the tiny brunette dips her chin to her chest in the slightest of nods, feeling even smaller under the concerned scrutiny of these two tall, strong former naval officers. It isn’t worth denying the fact; Killian already knows the truth. She had confided in him long ago, even before their trip to Camelot, her sleeplessness from a broken heart. He is certainly astute enough to realize that the organ is now only more broken.

What startles her however, is his proper older brother’s reaction. In interactions, Liam has always been friendly but reserved; now, he ushers her forward, an arm coming around her waist to guide her toward the reading lounge she has set up by the windows and into an overstuffed, comfortable chair. “Milady Belle, sit, please. You’re with child. You must take care of yourself.”

She doesn’t fight him, letting him lead her to the seat and settling into it with an actual sigh of relief. And he surprises her again by kneeling before her and grasping her delicate hand in his much larger one, enveloping it completely. There is an open, earnest look on his face that both soothes and puzzles her as he gazes up into her face and asks her if there is aught else they can do or fetch for her.

Liam himself doesn’t understand what has come over him as he looks up into the weary, hurting face of this lovely but lonely young woman. All he is certain of – and he knows he will speak to Killian about why she isn’t sleeping, what she has been through – is the concern for her he feels. He wants to find out why she is so sad, and to find a way to make it better. His resolve is firm, even if not fully understood, and he senses the beginning of a new mission, a new adventure.


	2. it's just you and me, trying to find the light

chapter two: just you and me, trying to find the light

 

Another hour, and in Killian’s case, a full armload of books later, finds the brothers outside the library and walking down Storybrooke’s main street. Liam has a couple of Belle’s recommended nonfiction titles as well as his own brand new library card, but is still chuckling at his brother’s unrestrained enthusiasm in the sheer amount of his borrowed books. “And you need not return any of those until you have finished perusing them thoroughly?” Liam asks doubtfully, seeming unsure of why an institution should trust just anyone to take so many of its treasures free of charge with barely more than their name and address as support.

Killian nods, confirming to his brother that his understanding is correct, even as he bites the inside of his cheek not to have a chuckle at his older sibling’s wide-eyed incredulity and struggling to bear in mind just how nonsensical and surprising many of this realm’s modern customs and conveniences had seemed to him as well until he had grown more used to them. “Aye, that is the idea.” He pulls out the long printout Belle has given him listing all the titles and the dates they are due for return and showing it to Liam. “Granted, they give a set return date in two weeks’ time, but even so we can renew them if we aren’t finished by then.”

“And Belle keeps track of all the checkouts and check-ins for the entire town alone?” Liam questions next, his brow creasing seriously and with concern as he considers what seems to him like more than enough task for a single worker. “Isn’t that a lot for one person to keep track of? How does she get anything else done? Can she not get anyone to help her? And in her condition…Is she sure that is wise?”

Killian shakes his head, clapping a hand to his brother’s shoulder and allowing himself a bit of a laugh this time. Wisely deciding not to comment on the notable amount of concern Liam is exhibiting for the town’s lovely librarian, he instead attempts to explain to him about the myriad capacities of the “magic boxes” this world calls computers and “the internet” which Belle has repeatedly tried to help him understand. She isn’t having to do all of her bookkeeping by hand as they did with ship manifests and cargo logs once so long ago. “And as for the women of this realm,” he adds, knowing from his relationship with Emma, but also from merely knowing Snow, Regina, Granny, Ruby, Ashley, and the other strong, self-sufficient modern women of Storybrooke, that they do not need or want the sort of pampered coddling high-ranking ladies of he and Liam’s birth realm would have expected and received. Belle, in particular, is made of stern stuff. He had underestimated her more than once before genuinely seeking her forgiveness and gaining her friendship; she may look small and delicate, but Belle Gold is a woman of incredibly strong mettle. “They handle their own business and don’t really like it if we insinuate they cannot,” he warns, scratching behind his ear in embarrassment at remembering the first time he had tried to pay for Emma’s meal on a date or the discomfited looks she had given him at opened doors, pulled out chairs, and hands at the small of her back protectively when they left a room. It has gotten better over time as she accepts it is a sign of his chivalrous respect and affection and not a slight on her own fortitude, but it had required an adjustment period – for both of them.

Liam arches an eyebrow, looking at him sideways, and snorts, knowing there is a story there but letting it pass for the moment. Instead, he turns equally intense eyes to his younger sibling. “Still,” he presses, unable to forget the trembling lower lip struggling to withhold emotion as Belle had begun to share while they searched for his desired reading in the stacks, and then the words bitten back until her emotions were under control. Those large, soulful brown eyes, long lashes, and the deep, purpling shadows of sleeplessness beneath them, have already imprinted themselves in his memory, haunting him and calling out for him to help in a way Liam Jones has never experienced before. “She’s with child and alone bearing that burden. She appears not to be resting…and there’s just a…a sadness about her, Killian…”

Liam trails off, seemingly puzzled by his own response and unsure of how to explain himself. Killian doesn’t offer that he thinks he understands all too well the desire Liam is feeling to help, remembering a guarded, closed off, lonely princess who had wanted nothing to do with him or revealing any of herself to someone who might possess the power to hurt her. It had made him want to know her all the more, to protect her fragile, tattered heart, and to crawl beneath her armor almost on sight. He can already see his brother feeling something akin to what he himself had experienced for a similarly tough lass, also wounded more than she deserved by the world and those who should have loved and cherished her most.

His blue eyes cloud at the reminder of his old Crocodile and just how much Belle has been through – not only recently, but even back in their former realm, first in her father’s castle as a pretty bird in a gilded cage and then as a servant in the Dark One’s. “Yes, well,” he sighs, his voice low and sounding as dejected as he suddenly feels for his friend, “she has more than enough call to be sad, poor woman. Belle’s heart is true, and she did all she could to stand by the man she loved, but one cannot save a person who does not wish it to be so.”

Liam shakes his head at Killian’s words, not knowing the whole story, but well aware of what he had seen when Belle came staggering dazed and breathless to the doorstep of his brother and Emma’s Underworld mockery of their home, hoping to join them – somehow broken and in shock, but still full of flinty resolve. He knows that she is married to Killian’s nemesis, though he cannot imagine the sweet-hearted woman he is getting to know yoked to such a cruel brigand. He knows to that whatever the shadowy details, her husband does not seem to be in the world above with them now. He worries for the woman who has been so welcoming and helpful to him since his return to the land of the living, even when her loved one did not – whether deservedly so or otherwise – and hates to see her doomed to misery. Perhaps there is something they – he – can do…

“Killian! Uncle Liam!” a bright young voice breaks into his thoughts along with the pounding of sneakered feet as Emma’s lad Henry comes running up to them on the sidewalk followed by Emma’s father, the Prince of Misthaven. Liam is still trying to wrap his mind around his relation to genuine royalty, when he notices the equipment they are carrying, what appear to be newfangled versions of fishing poles, bait, and other such accoutrements. “I was hoping we’d run into you!” the young man exclaims excitedly, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet as he comes to stand before them. “Grampa and I are going fishing. Want to join us?”

Liam smiles despite feeling a bit out of his depth; though he has not known Henry long, the affection he feels welling up within is genuine as he reaches out to ruffle the lad’s brown hair playfully. The “uncle” appellation doe his heart immense good, though he is not sure how he has managed to earn the lad’s affection and regard so swiftly. He gathers though, that Henry’s family tree is vast and varied and that the adolescent is used to it stretching and expanding regularly. Clearing his throat he answers Henry decisively, “Aye, that sounds splendid; though you may have to show me how it’s done with your more modern equipment.”

Henry agrees enthusiastically and urges his newly adopted relative on toward the docks as Killian takes some of the equipment off David’s hands and both of them chuckle a bit at Liam and Henry talking animatedly in front of them. Even as he speaks with this extraordinary young man before him, Liam still continues to marvel at being so willingly taken into this family’s fold, much as Killian was before him.

Furthermore, he feels a lump in his throat at the memory vision of his younger brother and the lost princess of Misthaven standing before him to be married at the well in the Underworld. He can still see the happy smile on Henry’s face as the boy hands off the same ring he had once given Killian for its use in their ceremony, and the joyous twinkling in his younger sibling’s eyes as he looked to Liam to pronounce them man and wife, and the awe and pride with which he had slid the band onto Emma’s graceful finger. It had been when they still thought he would not be able to accompany them back to the land of the living, and more than a few bittersweet tears had been shed, but Emma had been adamant that Killian deserved to have his brother at his wedding and that she would have Liam perform the vows or no one. Her parents, who had also been present as witnesses, even added that it was strangely fitting, as their true marriage ceremony had been small and secret as well, performed by a disgraced but noble knight in a forest while David’s mother was still alive to see.

Shaking his head free of the poignant reminiscence, he stops next to Henry on the pier and focuses on the lesson in modern fishing as it is given. Though this new life he has been given still boggles his mind at every turn, Liam Jones thrills to the sheer unexpected joy of it and tries to soak in the experience, enjoying the feel of family and belonging again after so long without.

~~~~~~00000000~~~~~~~~0000000~~~~~~

Later that night, Liam finds himself restless. The fishing excursion had been a resounding success, and between the four of them, they had trooped back to the loft with a bucket full of crappie and bluegill that Snow had cheerfully fried up fresh for supper, and which Regina, Robin, and his children had joined them for when they arrived with dessert. Now though he finds himself needing to walk off some excess energy in the streets of Storybrooke.

After the wonderfully warm and filling meal, the group had dispersed in their separate ways. Both Hood and his regal paramour, and David and Snow had infants to put down for the night and busied themselves in doing so, the former couple leaving for Regina’s mansion to do so with Roland in tow, and the latter pair slipping upstairs to their sleeping quarters. Meanwhile, Emma and Killian had curled up rather cozily on the couch before the large moving picture screen to view “the Netflix” – a practice that still rather unnerves Liam if he were to be totally honest. Henry had joined them, happily suggesting options that Killian apparently had not yet viewed. Liam knows they would have welcomed his joining in, and there is a very comfortable armchair just next to the couch which he could have occupied, but he finds himself too antsy for settling in yet.

Making his excuses and assuring them he is fine, just a bit restless, he makes his way back into the kitchen for a moment before heading out for a walk. Reaching into the refrigerator for a water bottle to take with him, Liam’s eyes light upon the tiny containers full of leftovers that Snow had neatly stacked on the cold shelves for them to enjoy later. And, again, for a reason he cannot fully comprehend, his mind speeds to the lonely and sad woman he had spoken with in the library that afternoon.

About that moment, Killian’s face appears on the other side of the door, peeking around with mischievously raised eyebrow and giving Liam the distinct impression that his younger brother knows what he has been pondering. “You should take some of those leftovers to Belle, see if she has had dinner yet,” Killian prods, undeterred by the look Liam sends his way, irked and embarrassed at being caught and read so easily. “The Lady Snow won’t mind. She’ll wonder why she didn’t think of it herself.”

Liam hesitates only a moment, then reaches in and withdraws a few containers from the fridge. Giving a curt, silent nod, he turns, gathers his loot and slips out the door without any more words being exchanged. 

Twenty minutes more, find him on the library’s front steps, nervous and awkwardly shuffling his feet, but unable to stall any longer and knocking on the door. He had originally thought to say he was going on a stroll and intended to wander around the small seaside town for a bit prior to giving in and admitting he had one specific destination in mind; however, Killian’s seeing right through him back at the Charming’s loft and Emma and Henry’s completely obvious attempts at feigning innocence made it clear the effort would be for naught. Instead, he lifts the brass knocker on the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot, and waits on the library’s doorstep, wondering if Belle can even hear him upstairs from her private apartments and quite how he is going to explain his presence if she does come to the door.

He has almost convinced himself to turn around and go, feeling foolish for coming here with food and some half-formed niggling desire to see a woman he barely knows and make sure she is alright, when he hears some steps on the other side of the door drawing nearer until it eventually eases open just a crack and those wide, lovely eyes peek out at him. Once Belle’s gaze focuses and realizes who is standing on her stoop, the door opens fully, and a hesitant, but tentatively pleased smile tilts her rosy lips up at the corners. “Captain Jones?” she asks curiously, her voice whisper-soft and a bit rough with sleepy inflection, but she steps back, clearly welcoming him in. “What brings you here?”

Liam’s words jam in his throat, even as his heart goes out the diminutive beauty before him. Though her manner is nothing but gracious and welcoming, there is something wistful, melancholy, and a bit evasive trying to hide in her eyes. A slight tremor runs through her delicate fingers where they still rest on the doorknob, and though she is in a nightgown and robe, he can plainly see the dark circles beneath her eyes, and senses that if she had been asleep, it hadn’t been for long or very deeply.

“Well, Snow White and her family were kind enough to let me join them for dinner, but we had quite a few leftovers. All of the rest of them were occupied together, and I felt a mite at loose ends. Then, I remembered speaking with you earlier today and … strange as it might seem, Lass, I hated to think of you here alone. I thought I would see if you wanted some company. Granted, I do not know much about this world we’re in, nor am I anything like the storyteller my younger brother is, but I am a good listener…or so I have been told.”

Belle studies him for a moment, head tilted to the side in thought, gaze locked on him as if gauging him or taking his measure, but then she leads him through the entry of the library and over to a door which stands open revealing a set of narrow stairs leading up to the building’s second story. Blushing just slightly and painting her cheeks a pleasant dusky rose, Belle responds with a short nod of acceptance and gentle smile. “Why don’t you come in, and I’ll put on some tea for us? Now that you’ve offered, Captain, I think that I would very much enjoy the company.”


	3. trying to believe in our silent own way

chapter three: trying to believe in our silent own way

 

They have finished watching The Italian Job – a dashing caper movie which both Emma and Killian can appreciate – Henry has wondered off to his own room with his comics and video games, and Emma is snuggled into Killian’s side huddled under his arm and growing drowsy, when it occurs to her consciously that Liam has yet to make his way back. Raising her head a fraction from its place against her pirate’s warm, sturdy chest to look up at him sideways, she smirks at him slightly when she asks, “Did you expect him to be out this long?” with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Killian looks down on his love’s upturned face, marveling at the light wreathing her features right along with the curve of her pretty smile. Brushing the metal curve of his hook through the strands of her golden hair, Killian cannot help the warmth he feels spreading from his heart outward in the glow of her brilliance and affection. Emma had not let him in easily, and he had wondered if they would ever reach the place they are in now – where she looks up at him with love clear in her eyes and cuddles even closer into his embrace rather than pulling back or closing herself up in fear.

Smiling back easily, he wraps his hook arm more snugly around her lithe form and brings his fingers up to her chin, thumb resting against the adorable dimple there. “Well, Swan, truth be told, I had my suspicions.”

“You think your brother is interested in Belle?” Emma asks, looking both pleased and intrigued with the idea.

“I think he hates to see anyone alone or in pain if he is in a position to help. It goes against his very nature to see anyone abandoned or tossed aside,” Killian swallows hard here and pauses before making himself add, “What our father did to he and I when we were young could well play a part in that. At any rate, Belle is so kind, so good, and the idea that she is with child, her husband gone, and with no one to really lean on is ‘bad form’ – oh yes, Swan, it was Liam who taught me that.” He nudges her at her snort of laughter and winks roguishly. “He simply cannot resist.”

“Neither of you seem able to resist when an available woman is involved,” Emma shoots back, having to jibe her pirate just a bit.

“I don’t know about that,” Killian replies, but waggles his eyebrows enough to belie his words and make her roll her eyes affectionately. “However, I do think he is drawn to her. I never really saw the spark in his eyes for any woman we met back in our realm when we sailed together as he had for Belle today when she showed him the library and discussed the nautical adventures they’ve both enjoyed reading.”

Emma winds her arms around Killian’s torso and squeezes him in an impulsive hug, resting her cheek against his chest where it peeks from the open neck of his shirt and then mumbles into his warm skin, “Good. I hope he can be some comfort to her. She’s been through a lot of heartache – not to mention all that your brother has suffered and the ages he spent alone in the Underworld – they both deserve some happiness. All the better if they can find it with each other.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Swan,” her pirate agrees, words husky with feeling as he bends to press his lips to the crown of her head in a grateful kiss. “Why wouldn’t I wish for Liam the type of healing you have brought me?”

Tears of joy prick the corners of Emma’s eyes at Killian’s words, knowing all too well just what her pirate means – the hurt, anger, and scars that he has overcome with the help of one who loves him. She only wishes she could fully express and make clear to him how he has performed much the same miracle for her. “You know I feel the same way about you, right?” Emma asks, looking up to latch onto his blue gaze with her own adoringly. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she thinks back to the angry, hard, closed-off woman she had been not-so-very long ago; so lonely, but so afraid of being hurt another time that she didn’t know how to reach out and let herself free from her self-imposed prison. Henry, and the rest of her family had begun to thaw the cold frost she used to protect her heart, but until Killian had finally managed to completely shatter the barrier, she had not realized just how much she could feel, how happy she could be at letting someone in to help her bear the burdens she carried.

Craning her neck a bit, Emma stretches up from her comfortable spot curled at his side to place a chaste kiss to the underside of Killian’s jaw. Brushing her fingers along the strong, stubbled line there, she whispers fervently and for him alone, “Both of them deserve something this good.”

~~~~~~000000000~~~~~~~~~000000000~~~~~~~

Heedless of the fact that the large, antique grandfather clock looking down at them from the corner of the living room has passed one in the morning, Belle Gold and Liam Jones sit around the ornate mahogany table, tea service and biscuits spread out before them and munching in contented and companionable quiet. Neither feels half as sleepy as they probably should and can really only attribute it to enjoying the company of a newfound friend with a sympathetic ear and equally sleepless tendencies.

“These biscuits with the glaze and shaved almond are delicious, Lass,” Liam compliments while his companion blushes and dips her head modestly across from him. “Did you make them yourself?”

“I did,” Belle confirms with a pleased note in her voice. “I’m not much of a cook in general, but these were my mother’s favorite recipe. After I lost her, I made sure I mastered at least that one, so I could have them and remember her. She taught me to treasure the simple things I love,” she adds more slowly, her voice a bit melancholic, but nostalgia for remembered good times within her tone as well. “My love of books came from her too.”

“She sounds like a wise woman,” Liam offers, struck again by the kinship he feels with this petite librarian and the urge to be of comfort to her. “Killian and I lost our mother early as well. Killian was in fact quite young. And…well…what I do remember of her is precious to me also.”

Belle nods, and they sit quietly for some moments, not awkward, but merely enjoying a sort of silent rapport and comfort. She nibbles the tiniest, most delicate bite of her dessert biscuit, the food tasting better to her than anything has since her morning sickness kicked in and her return from the Underworld, and looking at him over the table, eyelashes fluttering guilelessly as gentle warmth zings across the space between them. When Liam speaks again, Belle feels the same sort of heat throughout her limbs – a sensation she has never really encountered before. “You will be the very same sort of giving, incredible mum that we both remember having ourselves, I’ll wager.”

The words are soft, lulling and peaceful in that lilting accent she has noted before from Killian but which is even more pronounced from her evening’s companion. More than that, Belle is touched to the core by the gentle faith and confidence expressed in his words. With the almost-perfect, sainted position her mother holds in her memory and the inauspicious beginning her baby’s first few months growing within her and the trauma with its father have wrought, Belle has had her doubts at just how well she would provide for her unborn child, and the fact that someone believes in her is inexplicably bolstering.

Without even realizing how it has happened, Belle looks down at the empty plate in the table’s center to see that all the biscuits are gone. She flushes with embarrassment, wondering just how ravenously she has been stuffing her face in front of this man she finds herself wanting to think well of her.

In response, Liam merely gives her the smallest quirk of a smile, prying the lid from one of Snow’s Tupperware containers and edging what she discovers is blackberry cobbler toward her. “Go on,” he urges, handing her a fork and taking another sip of his tea. “I can attest to how good that is. There’s no need to be embarrassed if you’re still hungry, Lass. You are eating for two after all.”

Belle isn’t sure whether to be mollified or mortified by his urging, but she can’t resist digging into the leftovers before her. “Mhmm…” she hums as the tangy fruit and sugary crust hit her tongue, eyes slipping closed in bliss. When they open again, she can see Liam watching her closely in a way she almost doesn’t recognize, so rarely has she found herself inspiring it. Still, the flicker of interest in his blue gaze makes her heart rate triple and she almost wants to giggle with nervous exhilaration at the sight of him swallowing hard and seemingly having to rein in some sort of physical reaction of his own.

She tries to bypass the awkwardly heated moment they have stumbled into and gestures to the cobbler in front of her with the fork. “Thank you for thinking of me and bringing these over,” she says with bashful gratitude. “I haven’t had much appetite in the last couple weeks. Very little has set well with me, even though I know I need to eat for this one,” she pats her small baby bump fondly, “but this food seems to be doing the trick, so thank you.”

Liam raises his eyes to hers then surprises her by winking roguishly – a move that would have made his pirate brother proud – and saying, “Or perhaps it’s the company you’re sharing it with.”

Belle’s breath catches in surprise for a moment, pulse fluttering and unsure how to respond. Liam has dropped his head and looks to be fumbling to word an apology for his forwardness, when she lays a soft hand atop his and offers him a tiny, playful smirk, “Perhaps it is.”

Their late night snack binge and conversation continues easily from there, neither of them able to remember when they last felt so genuinely seen by someone else and comforted in that other’s presence and understanding. It’s hard to want the moment to end. The longer they sit together relaxing somewhat from the initial awkwardness of new acquaintances, the more Liam finds that he feels protectiveness swell within him for the lovely young woman before him. Though her skin is flawless and appears soft enough to make his calloused fingers itch to brush along her cheek, it is still troublingly pale and the purple bruises under her eyes are blatantly plain, striking him with a pang of empathetic hurt on her behalf.

He knows how many of his hours and ages of endless worry and hurt over no longer being there for his younger brother – how he had failed Killian, and the way Killian had lived his pain, alienation, and focus on nothing but revenge – so he can all too well understand the guilt Belle seems to be feeling now. Yet, though he is familiar with the emotion, enough unfinished business to keep him from crossing over to his reward because of his fear for Killian’s lost happiness, he cannot fathom why this sweet, loving woman, kindness seeping from her every pore irresistibly, who by all accounts had done nothing wrong beyond trying to find and restore the man beneath a powerful monster, surely she could not blame herself for the loss of the Dark One? He had been a prisoner of Hades’ domain for more than long enough to know that one did not deal lightly with the Lord of the Dead – no matter what sort of power he might possess in the mortal world. How did this fair slip of a maid think she could have altered events?

Just as Belle had done earlier in their conversation, Liam reaches forward to cover her hand with his, rubbing his thumb lightly over her knuckles. “Lass,” he murmurs huskily, dipping his head to catch her lowered gaze and make sure she is hearing him as he gives his thoughts voice, “you cannot blame yourself for what happened to Rumplestiltskin. There is nothing you could have done against the God of the Underworld, the brother of Zeus himself. Surely you – you must know that.”

Belle shakes her head slightly, to his distress not looking at all convinced of his words, but her smile in return is appreciative, and he feels his old heart turn over just slightly when she doesn’t pull her hand away, but instead turns it over within his grasp to link their fingers together, squeezing gently. “Thank you, Capt – Liam,” she whispers, speaking his given name for the first time instead of his title, after the last few hours realizing that she feels she truly knows him. “I wish I could believe that.”

“You must,” he urges fervently, not letting her look away. “You cannot hold something of this magnitude over yourself. It will eat away at you, weaken you, make you sick, and…it isn’t good for the little one…” he trails off there, eyes glancing to where her other hand rests on the small, rounded swell of her stomach, no further words necessary.

“You’re right, of course,” she allows shakily. “I know that, deep down…but it’s hard. I feel as though I failed Rumple…and myself…and our child.” She blinks back a few tears that tremble on her dark lashes, but bites her lip and says no more.

“I understand the feeling of letting down someone you meant to help,” he answers, hesitantly wishing his words to be right, “but I do not see how you have failed here, Belle. True, I have not heard your whole story, but from what I have seen and from what I have been told, all you did was try to love an impossible man Your only mistake was setting yourself a goal no one could have accomplished.”

The librarian in her sanctuary doesn’t argue with him, doesn’t say anything at all in response, merely uses her free hand to brush away the tears which have escaped down her cheeks and draws in a shaky breath. When she does speak again, she takes him by surprise with her change in topic. “You still feel responsibility for Killian, don’t you?” she asks, her intelligent brown eyes clearly showing she has already discerned the answer. “When your father left you both, you were still young yourself, but you became as much Killian’s guardian as his brother, didn’t you?” Her smile is so caring, so understanding as she continues, squeezing the hand she still holds in her own more tightly, giving him a watery but hopeful smile. “Didn’t leave you much childhood for yourself, did it?”

“I did my best by him, aye,” Liam affirms, though not elaborating. After all this time his mind runs more to how wrong things went after the treasured closeness and trust they had once shared, their time rising through the ranks of the Royal Navy and their hero’s quest.

“I am sorry that you had to give up your childhood,” Belle offers, her voice so soft and sincere that he finds himself blinking furiously at moisture behind his own eyes, tears for a wound that he has never really allowed himself to grieve. “I would never belittle your pains and what you have lived through. I know it’s very different, but my mother was killed by ogres when I was still an early teen. Loss like that causes a person to grow up very quickly, and I understand that a bit. Yet, regardless of the sacrifices and hardships, I think I already know you well enough to assume that you wouldn’t change it either. You wouldn’t leave Killian without your love and support if you could do it over, would you?”

“Certainly not,” Liam answers assertively. “You have the right of it there. I wasn’t able to do all for him that I would have wished. But what pains it did bring me…when I was able to see my little brother smile, or make things better for even a moment or two…they were worth it. And as for understanding…I’m sure you do, Lass,” he adds, returning soft pressure to her fingers, “and I am sorry for your losses as well. Having my mother for that long would have been a precious gift, but it would have made her death even more devastating when it came.”

Big brown eyes full of sadness, but also a still unquenchable measure of hope lock on his as Belle rises slowly and comes around the table to stand before him, looking uncertain but determined. “I think you did the very best you could for Killian. And he adores you for it. You’re his hero, Liam. Anyone can see that. Even when he was living as a villain, he still had honor – a code – some level of decency that wouldn’t degenerate. He learned that from you, as well as how to love wholly and unselfishly. I want that for my child…s-somehow. And I’m scared…I don’t have any idea what I’m doing as a parent. Think you’d be willing to offer some free advice here and there?” Her bottom lip wobbles badly as she asks this last while still trying to bravely smile.

Liam nods his assent and opens his arms without hesitation. She leans wearily against his chest once he does so, and he wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly, whispering against her hair. “Of course I will, Lass. At any time. You aren’t alone in this. So many here in this town want to help you, however they can.” What he doesn’t say aloud is how good her small frame feels in his arms, how he won’t let her go until she pulls away first, and how he may not understand it, but he would do anything to help her and ease her pain.


	4. 'cause we'll be okay, i'm not going away

chapter four: ‘cause we’ll be okay, i’m not going away

Days and weeks and months go by, and with help and time, Belle rights herself and finds her footing again, growing stronger each day. Though she still busies herself and finds what joy she can in organizing and running her library, helping the varied fairy tale refugees she counts her friends and neighbors find stories other than their own which they can enjoy and get lost in, she has moved from the apartment on the upper level above her collection. It felt too close, tainted somehow, and all too easy for Rumple to find her if he somehow managed to return to the land of the living. She isn’t sure she knows what happened; clearly her memory was somehow affected again and she cannot recall the details of her husband’s deal with Hades, but she is not at all ready to be reunited with her erstwhile mate, and so some space had seemed the safest course. It certainly isn’t beyond possibility for him to find a loophole in the terms he’d struck – even with Hades himself.

Now, she is ensconced in a little one-bedroom apartment over the town’s bakery, just a street over from where David, Mary Margaret, and their son reside. There isn’t much to the place, but Belle is content – in all honesty, she has never needed a lot to be happy, only to be enough for the man she loved, the one thing she could never quite accomplish. The little alcove is cozy and safe, boasting a lovely fireplace where she can curl up with an engrossing tale and a cup of tea on a chilly night, and for her, well, she won’t ask for anything more. When the little one growing within her arrives, she can consider the situation again.

She tries to keep busy, to keep her mind occupied by other thoughts than the mistakes she has made, the things she has lost, and the time she has wasted. Her life is not over and all hope is not lost; she has wished all of her life to be a hero like those in her beloved stories, but the largest part of her has come to accept that she might only be meant as a supporting character, and she may well have even failed at that over and over again. Still, her tale has not yet been fully told; this little one who will be in her charge, an innocent who will need her as no one else ever has, is a powerful reminder of that. Her story on goes on through her – Belle feels sure she is carrying a little girl – and maybe that will turn out to be her great purpose after all of the struggle and hurt. Her child will be special – born of True Love, though it has been thwarted and rejected, it was still a genuine love which had brought her into being, and Belle vows her child will always know her immense potential. Her child’s pages are completely blank, her possibilities endless.

Lending her strength and resolve is a supporter Belle could not have expected, but whom she grows fonder of with each passing day: Liam Jones. Not because they are incompatible or unlike each other – they’re much alike if the truth be told – but because without magic and their trip to the Underworld for his brother, they would never have even met. However, since they have, since he trailed his brother into her library months ago as she sat mourning and at her very lowest, and then set himself up at her side, determined to be there for her to lean on when she needs, Belle has come to realize that Liam needs her as well.

The man was born and came of age in another world and another time. Though Belle knows that Emma, her family, and the rest of their usual hero gang has been thrilled to welcome Liam into their midst, they also struggle to relate to him at times. He can be unfailingly formal, proper, and even seem a bit stiff or self-righteous without meaning to, despite his infinitely good heart. He is the best walking, talking representation of a fish out of water that Belle has ever seen, just in trying to understand this modern day, small town world. To keep from floundering completely, he needs guidance and experience to acclimate, just as she had when first released from the under-hospital institution she had been isolated and trapped in for so long. The Captain needs a place to belong here, others besides Killian to belong with, and a purpose in his new life.

She may have struggled many times since her return to Storybrooke with feeling like a failure or letting her husband and herself down, or just wondering what she had ever done that made a difference for good or how she could soon raise a child to do better. It warms Belle’s heart to some degree to know that her presence, her company, is doing someone some good. If nothing else, she gives Liam something to do and the sense that someone is depending on him, desires his relationship and support. As a former captain of an entire crew, it makes sense that he would miss – and still need – that.

And so, one morning in early October finds Liam with her not long after the sunrise, misty fog still clearing from the chill air in the growing daylight, in the library’s history wing, arguing with her over who would go up the ladder and straighten the highest shelves he had come in to help her re-stack.

“I’ve told you, Lass, repeatedly, in your third trimester you really should not be straining yourself, nor should you run the risk of falling in your delicate condition. I would be much more comfortable if you simply…”

Belle knows she shouldn’t, but she can’t help feeling the heat rise in her cheeks, a flush high on her cheekbones, growing offended in spite of her best intentions and knowing that he means well, only wanting to protect her and the child’s well-being. Shaking her head, she interrupts him tartly before he can speak any further. “Honestly, Liam? Just how ‘delicate’ do you think I am?”

Chuckling lightly, Liam bows his head for a moment, shaking it in resignedly humored acceptance before he looks up to her again with his next words, “You win, Belle, you win. Go ahead, and I shall steady the ladder. No offense or slight was meant. I merely wish to help.”

Belle finds herself almost giggling at his light apology, touched by a man willing to cede control and his own wishes and trust her judgement when she deems herself capable. It is such a new and welcome revelation that she feels her heart lightening, a pink warmth spreading over her cheeks, and the quick urge to throw her arms around this good, gentle man’s neck in an emotional hug. Shaking her own head quickly, she merely lays a hand on his forearm for a moment, and then takes her first step, beginning to climb the ladder. “None taken, Captain Jones,” she quips. “I appreciate your consideration. Just hold this contraption steady for me, and we should be fine!”

The next quarter hour passes pleasantly in the handing up of old tomes, the satisfying sense of her beloved books sliding back into their proper places with a fulfilling rightness, and the low murmur of her and Liam’s easy conversation. It helps immensely to not have to strain, twist, or contort in reaching back and grabbing new books, nor does she have to get winded climbing up and down the stepladder repeatedly. Beyond all that, she enjoys having Liam to talk to – both in keeping her from her own dreary thoughts, and in that she genuinely finds herself intrigued by his perspective on whatever their topic. Listening to his thoughts, his musings on the histories he’s read, the places he has seen and questions about times and the life which had passed, did them both good. Belle could sense intrinsically that Liam has spent his whole life – the ages of several lives – holding it all in, forcing himself to be strong, to keep himself together and plunge on against all obstacles. He has been a rock, and the waters of time and trial have beaten against him while he stood silent without crumbling for far too long. If her listening ear gives absolution or helps to purge even a few of Liam’s demons, then she is more than pleased to do so. It is what she had wanted to do for Rumple so many times over, endeavored to give him time and again, only to be thwarted by his aversion to being saved. The lilting rhythm of Liam’s rich voice vibrates in her soul, soothing her own pain as well. If occasionally in the midst of his narrative she reaches out to clasp his hand in comfort and he presses back with a near-desperate gratitude, well, no one knows or sees but them.

On this afternoon however, they are interrupted suddenly by the library door flinging wide on its hinges and banging against the entry wall. Henry bursts into the room at a run, already calling both Belle and Liam’s names in his urgency.

Startled at the unexpected sound and flurry of action, Belle jerks around sharply, turning to see what’s happening and in doing so, causes one foot to slip back enough that it falls off the step. Unable to catch herself the way she is twisted, and her center of gravity so thrown off kilter by her growing belly, Belle is already falling before she can even cry out.

Her descent is abruptly halted, brought up short by solid arms encasing her, as quickly as it had begun. Drawing a ragged, dazed breath, blinking rapidly through the fuzziness that takes over her vision at the warmth and the very feeling of being cradled in Liam’s arms, Belle takes a moment to process what has happened. A small grunt of impact escapes her lips in a puff of exhaled breath, and her gaze rises to stare into his steely grey-blue eyes, her breath slow to return to her, stuttering in her lungs at the way she feels pinned beneath his observation.

Biting her bottom lip hesitantly between her teeth, Belle can’t keep herself from clutching at Liam’s broad shoulders beneath her splayed fingers, relishing the moment and the contact and wishing for a way to prolong it and not have to let go. Searching his expression, Belle hopes she sees the same sort of stunned surprise and attraction that is racing through her own veins; even lets herself believe it for a moment while she watches his Adam’s apple move with a hard, nervous swallow. 

Their frozen state is shattered as Henry rounds the end of the stack and comes into view, something to show them clearly clutched within his grasp. Killian and Emma aren’t far behind him, and Liam sets her on her feet and steps back quickly, a flush stealing across his cheeks that even his scruff cannot completely disguise. Belle’s heart thrills, even as the heat of a corresponding blush covers her own face.

“Alright there, Lass?” Liam rasps, his voice soft and husky as he attempts to bring his own swirling thoughts back under control.

Belle nods, not even ready to attempt answering in a coherent voice which doesn’t waiver precariously. She finally drops her hands from his arms, though already missing the steady warmth, and turns to Henry while swallowing the rest until the two of them are alone again. Catching a glimpse at Killian and Emma who have come into the library in Henry’s wake, she registers the knowing smirk that says her friend has taken in all he’s just witnessed, but she isn’t really troubled. She honestly thanks Killian for bringing Liam into her life, and welcomes the clear indication that he has no problem with the closeness growing between his bookish friend and his beloved older brother.

Liam is the one who finally regains the presence of mind to ask Henry what he’s come to show them. By this time, Henry is practically vibrating with tense energy as he steps forward and lays the item in his grasp on the table before them. And it is only then, in the moment before she looks down and registers what is lying in front of her, that Belle sees the more anxious and concerned look on Emma’s face – and Killian’s too, now that he is again focused on the task at hand. Summoning a focus that she struggles to really feel, Belle trains her eyes to the table’s surface and then experiences her heart stuttering to a complete halt. Lying innocently on the polished mahogany wood, looking deceptively harmless and lovely, is a single rose.

Belle’s fingers tremble as she reaches toward the flower and then jerks her hand back again without actually touches the blossom. She almost fears some injury or poison – and her immediate concern about the source make it not that farfetched at all.  
“Henry…where did this come from?” she asks breathily, forcing her words past a rapidly closing throat.

“It just appeared,” the teenager answers simply, a quizzical look furrowing his brow. “I was coming over here to see how you were and if you needed any help with the books, and it just materialized on the doorstep right in front of me.”

“Belle, could this mean what I think it does?” Emma asks worriedly, stepping forward to clasp the other woman’s hand in hers, her mouth a thin, determined line and driven concern in her eyes. “You’re shaking. Are you alright?”

Turning to face the Savior, Belle forces herself to nod decisively and square her shoulders before she responds. Though she can’t see him, she feels Liam step up behind her, literally having her back, and draws strength from it, just as she draws in a cleansing breath to steady herself. “I’m fine,” she manages through clenched teeth.

“But you know something about that flower, don’t you, Love?” Killian presses, drawing nearer as well and studying her face. “What is it?”

“It’s Rumple,” she whispers, barely making herself audible over her dread and the growing certainty that she is right.

“What?!? He’s been here?” Liam bursts out angrily, his countenance stormy as Belle glances over her shoulder to see him, strangely comforted by his protective outburst. In the time they’ve spent talking in the library, having supper together or with Emma, Killian, and Henry at Granny’s, or sometimes walking along the town’s quiet streets in the evening when her little one won’t settle and she can’t find any rest, Liam has come to know quite possibly more than she has ever told anyone about she and her husband’s complicated history, and just how much he has broken her heart time and again. “Has he shown his face here to trouble you, Belle?”

She shakes her head ‘no’, trying to calm all of them down a bit, even as Henry crowds in to hug her, looking guiltily sorry for bringing the thing to her, even though it is far from his fault. “No, I haven’t seen him…but it’s a message. A golden teacup rose? He’s making us – well, me – aware that he’s back…he sees what’s going on…and I had better not forget it…”


	5. we're just fumbling through the grey

chapter five: we’re just fumbling through the grey

 

“Belle, wait…what do you mean?” Emma asks, brow furrowing in consternation, still squeezing Belle’s wrist as if to offer silent support through touch. “He’s here now? Granted, you’d think someday I might stop being surprised by the way magical people come and go all the time, but how is that possible?”

Belle shakes her head, pressing her lips together and tamping down the sudden panic she feels rising more certainly all the time. She just knows her husband has returned, and she cannot be sure what that will mean for their unborn child, those she has come to care about and depend on in his absence, or for herself and her own well-being. She meets the Savior’s eyes fully, knowing Emma deserves all the information she can offer. She has never had the opportunity to get to know the Enchanted Forest’s returned princess as well as she would like, but she is sure that Emma won’t leave her to fend for herself in this, which may well put her in Rumple’s crosshairs…and for that Emma must be prepared.

“I can’t say that I know exactly,” Belle sighs, feeling woefully clueless and unhelpful, and not liking it one bit. There isn’t much in the world that she can’t do a bit of research on, understand better, and then prepare for, but unfortunately, Rumple has put her in just such a situation now and admitting it stings. She doesn’t really know what she’s even facing. “It’s been nearly six months, but I’m almost certain Rumple altered my memory somehow. There are too many details of that entire encounter with Hades, as well as Rumple and my final conversation, which I can’t recall. It isn’t normal.” She looks now at her hands, fidgeting anxiously with the petals of the offending rose and honestly wanting to tear it to shreds. Without a single word aloud, Liam reaches forward and takes her hand, twining their fingers together and making her nervous fidgeting cease. She shoots him a silently grateful look, then draws in a steadying breath to press on. “Still, I wouldn’t put anything past his capabilities at this point. He could have made some sort of deal, done something for Hades that caused that villain to let him leave the Underworld again. Whatever it is, I think you all had better make yourselves scarce in the library. If he is in town, he’ll come here, and until I know what he wants, I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

All of them start to argue with her right there; four indignant voices speaking at once and drowning each other out, but the message is clear: they aren’t running out on her, won’t be leaving her to face the Dark One alone. She is warmed to the bottom of her soul at their solidarity and friendship, but she still forces herself to shake her head. “Thank you all, really, but I mean it. Rumple won’t hurt me – at least not physically. I’m not in danger from him…” she cuts her eyes to Killian and Emma at that. “We can’t necessarily assume that for anyone else.”

“Doesn’t matter, Lass,” Killian bites out automatically, his eyes hard and sparkling with feeling and determination. “We won’t be leaving you to deal with him alone and hiding for our own safety. It isn’t right that you should have to do so, and begging your pardon, but the bloody Crocodile is unpredictable. You don’t know what he might do – even to you – now.”

“Aye,” Liam nodded, murmuring his agreement with his younger brother softly, “besides, they may not be scars which show, but the man has already hurt you…quite deeply.”

Belle looks over her shoulder to seek Liam’s eyes briefly, the expression in hers sad and resigned. “That may be,” she replies, in equally quiet but decisive tones, “but I chose him. I married him. And, for better or worse, I must see through the consequences of that decision. He’s my husband – and the father of this child,” her hand falls to rest on her stomach, trying to ignore the tightness and the roiling that has started up within, “and if nothing else, I need to reach closure with him and determine our course from here.”

Henry reaches out then, taking her other hand and squeezing it comfortingly in his growing one. “I’m sorry, Gran-” he begins, then trips to a halt, swallowing the ‘grandma’ label that she’s a fair bit too young for. She can see on his youthful face that he’s sorry for bringing the flower into the library at all, for exposing the little haven she has created for herself to outside dangers and reminding her of the pain and trouble still before her to deal with; in truth, just sorry to have upset her, sweet, good hearted young man that he is. “I mean, Belle, I mean…”

Taking pity and squeezing his hands back tightly in hers, Belle stops Henry’s floundering by giving him a wobbly smile and shaking her head. “Please don’t apologize,” she hurries to reassure this one last legacy of Rumple’s family line. This grandson he could have cultivated a relationship with, had a bit of Bae, his son, back in his life through his brave boy, but instead he tossed the opportunity away, betraying Henry as he had her, and only choosing to care about this precious young man when it suited him or served his purposes. Her voice trembles a bit with the overload of varied emotion, but she whispers in his ear, “No Henry, please, I was wrong before. I will always be your Gran, if you’ll have me. None of this is at all your fault.”

Henry smiles more clearly, nodding his understanding and pressing her hand again in return. Then, suddenly, a stabbing pain shoots through her stomach, and Belle doubles over with a harsh gasp, probably crushing Henry’s fingers before she can even try to control it. This shouldn’t be – isn’t right – but there’s no denying the blinding spasm of pain, the clench in her midsection where her baby resides, even if she is still almost two months from delivery.

Wincing, Belle tries to bit back further exclamation, but the reaction of the three men already surrounding her in concern is immediate and intense. Liam’s hand is at the small of her back in an instant, warm and steadying; she can sense his presence hovering even as things go a bit fuzzy and unfocused with adrenaline and fear. Meanwhile, Killian darts off and returns in seconds with one of the comfy armchairs stowed in the corners of the children’s reading section. Henry rushes to get her a glass of water, and she hears Emma already calling for help from just a few steps away. Their presence ensconces her comfortingly even as the twist in her gut panics her. It can’t be – it’s too soon! Her baby, her little girl, her reason for fighting back to her feet; she simply cannot lose her, can’t bear the thought that she might be in danger.

Gently, Liam’s hands at her shoulders ease her down into the chair Killian has brought, and Killian kneels in front of her, his one good hand clutching hers, urging her to grip his fingers as hard as she needs if it helps. Belle forces herself to take deep breaths as he urges and ground herself. 

“Easy, Lass,” Liam soothes, rubbing his hands across her shoulders, “you have to stay calm. It will be alright. It will. It must.”

She nods blindly, glancing down to meet Killian’s upturned blue eyes, haunted and hopeful at the same time. Liam may have spent ages in Hades’ domain, but somehow the ways life and the real world can break and steal what a person loves most and how quickly what one treasures can be lost have not marked him in quite the same way. He was the one lost to Killian. And though he knew guilt, responsibility and hurt much too young, and for things he shouldn’t have had to bear, the world still hadn’t warped him with its cruelty for an entire lifetime – he was taken from it too soon for that to occur. Just because horrible, unfair things shouldn’t be true or possible doesn’t mean they don’t happen all the time. The look on Killian’s face tells Belle every bit as clearly as his brother’s touch at her back that he will do anything to make sure she and her little one will be safe, but also that he knows all too well that what is happening right now is also beyond their control.

They aren’t left waiting much longer; all of her self-appointed supporters are tense and quiet as they watch her struggle to draw even breaths in and out. Only a few minutes, though they might feel like hours, pass before the four of them hear the wail of Storybrooke’s one ambulance nearing and then coming to a halt just outside the library door. Liam and Emma have already come to either side of Belle to steady her as she levers to her feet shakily and clutches each of their arms. Killian goes ahead of them, fussing over anything that might be in their path, while Henry gathers her purse and keys and brings up the rear.

Belle wants to tell them that everything will be fine, that there is no need for them all to make such a scene, but she isn’t sure it’s true, and holding back actual cries of pain and keeping herself breathing somewhat steadily are taking almost all of her conscious thought. They managed to get her outside the library to meet the EMTs on the front steps, and after that, things move in such an accelerated blur that Belle blinks and is hardly sure how she finds herself lying on the gurney in the back of the ambulance. The workers are cautioning that only one person can ride with her, and then Liam is beside her, his long legs and tall, strapping frame looking comically folded up as he sits on the bench beside her murmuring softly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand in a soothing rhythm while his other brushes her hair back off her forehead. “It’s going to be fine, Lass.” He keeps repeating, “They know what they’re doing. The wee one will be alright, don’t you worry,” so often that Belle begins to think fondly that it’s as much to reassure himself he isn’t losing them as it is to calm her.

Storybrooke is not that big, and so it isn’t long before they come to a sudden halt at the ER doors of the hospital on the other side of town. She feels herself lifted out on the gurney, and Liam is jogging beside them to keep ahold of her hand, answering as best he can any questions the doctors and nurses ask him about what has happened. When they are about to push through heavy double doors into surgery is when the doctor in charge finally tells Liam he can’t go any further with them. The last thing clearly tethering her to definite reality is loosed when he has to let go of her hand, and though Belle hears the calm reassurance he forces into his voice, promising he will be right there waiting for her when she comes back out, she still feels herself begin to drift away, unmoored without his centering presence; the fear and hurt taking over. Not only does she fear for the life of this child – the little girl she has been anticipating – who has given her hope to carry on, but now even with Whale and several nurses, anesthesiologists, and personnel swarming around her like bees in a hive, she feels alone and isolated in her vulnerability. Even if it all comes out alright, Rumple can get to her now, and she knows it.

“Belle… Mrs. Gold?... Belle!” she hear Dr. Whale’s voice calling out to her seemingly from much further away than it should be, along with a persistent, annoying beep from one of the machines surrounding her that she realizes vaguely is attached to her somewhere. She’s being given a warning impossible to follow right now. “You have to calm down! Do you understand me? You need to calm down!”

It does feel as if the beat of her heart is pounding, ricocheting, against the wall of her chest cavity, banging and fighting to get out. But there doesn’t seem to be anything in her power to stop it. A few more seconds and she feels the prick of a needle in her skin. Finally, things begin to slow, everything grows even hazier, less distinct, and further away. She closes her eyes and lets go…

~~~~~0000000~~~~~~0000000~~~~~

The library is deserted, though in disarray as his love would never normally leave it – teacups and books and a golden tea rose strewn across the reference desk as if they had all picked up and vanished in seconds, which this silent intruder in the Beauty’s sanctuary knows is quite close to the truth. Watching hidden and unseen in the disused antique elevator, the shadowy Dark figure that now emerges and walks calmly over to the vacated counter has witnessed the entire panicked interlude, but seen no reason to interpose his assistance and give away his presence – not just yet. There is more he hopes to gather in information while they are all distracted. Though his warning reunion gift yield a more dramatic and troubling effect than he intended, he senses that Belle is in good hands for the moment and will recover. For all Dr. Whale’s deplorable personal habits and erstwhile reputation, he actually is a quite capable doctor; if he hadn’t been before Regina’s curse, the constant danger and upheaval of Storybrooke has made him into one.

No, Rumplestiltskin lets the smooth, cunning pirate brothers, the Savior, and his grandson care for his wife for the moment – though he will make sure all of them but Henry pay later for getting anywhere near her, for supporting her in what he senses is a growing resolve to leave him for good. His chance to find and take the object he seeks is now, and the moment to reclaim his erstwhile love and safeguard both she and his unborn child will come soon enough. He can bide his time. He may be many things in both his original realm and this one, but impatient has never been one of them – not when waiting and planning his attack will achieve the maximum amount of damage to his enemies.

In the long, shallow drawer that pulls out near where Belle often sits on long afternoons, the Dark One locates the hiding place of the key he seeks. Moving to pull out the drawer, he finds it locked, much to his own consternation. Only pausing a few seconds, a sinister sneer parts his thin, pointed face as a bit of the eerie sing song of his Enchanted Forest persona slides into his voice, while with a flick of his wrist the lock is broken and the drawer slips free to bare its contents for him as he chortles, “Sorry Dearie, you may be clever, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

Deft fingers close tightly around the talisman he sought, the door is closed and locked once more. Then with a last, self-satisfied glance around the large open room, he murmurs to the echoing stillness. “I’ll be back soon, Belle. Wait and see.” Snapping his fingers, Gold vanishes in a puff of smoke as easily as he had appeared. He is willing to bide his time until the opportune moment – the moment that will strike the rest of them to their core until they cannot respond to stop him. After all, he has all the time in the world.


	6. turn the lights down low, walk these halls alone

chapter six: turn the lights down low, walk these halls alone

 

Flashback to six months past, in Hade’ lair after Belle is gone…

“Now then, ‘Dark One’…” Hades purrs silkily, almost mocking the title that would cow most adversaries in the way he rolls it around on his wicked tongue, “your lovely, sweet little wife is no longer here to see, so let us get down to our real business.”

“As you wish,” Gold seethes, his voice an equally malevolent hiss as he responds by giving a bare dip of his head to signal his readiness to deal, though his gaze never wavers from the scorned deity, not trusting for a moment that the Lord of the Underworld will not strike out at him if his guard wavers for a moment.

“Good,” Hades affirms. “You like deals, Rumplestiltskin, so let’s not mince words. Here is what I require…”

Gold’s eyes narrow dangerously, used to giving ultimatums and resenting being given one, but clenching his teeth and forcing himself to listen. If Killian Jones could see the way his eyes glimmer menacingly now, he would note the reptilian glint he has always asserted was in his old crocodile’s stare.

Hades continues unperturbed, clearly confident in his possession of the upper hand. “You see, I have had a recent loss here in my kingdom – a reduction of my forces, if you will – and that simply will not do.” He shakes his head with a clearly false look of hurt dismay. “I mean, granted, all the souls here in this realm answer to me and ultimately operate according to my will, so it’s not that I actually miss one or two who might move on or escape, but, how does that look? I mean, if I let this escape go unanswered, the other might start getting ideas…”

When he pauses significantly for a beat, Gold does not hesitate to hiss nastily, “I cannot cay I blame these residents for wanting to be rid of your oily presence, but I do understand your conundrum. Once one seizes control, he cannot let it falter again, or he risks losing it.”

“Precisely,” Hades allows smoothly, and regains rule of the conversation. “So, here is where you come in – if you wish to be free of this domain, and to safeguard your unborn child as well, I must have souls in exchange. One must be the rightful property I have already possessed for some time now – Captain Liam Jones. One does not simply cross me and then waltz from my purview without consequence. I will grant you, Dark One, choice over which two other unfortunate souls complete your debt, but three in total are needed to replace the three I am relinquishing: you, Mrs. Gold, and the infant due me. Though…” an almost ravenous gleam flashes in his eye as he drawls his last words out with thoughtful relish, “I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on Killian Jones again. Tormenting him is all too rewarding, and it might take the actual length of my reign to fully break him.”

While Gold’s teeth grind together to hold back a retort at Hades’ mention of “granting” him anything as if doing him a favor, a pleased and voracious fire kindles in the depth of his dark gaze at the god’s parting suggestion. “Well,” he murmurs sleekly, nearly rubbing his hands together in glee, “if he is your wish, you needn’t even make the order. Him I will bring you simply for pleasure.”

Details hammered out, and malicious deal struck, Hades grants Gold his leave, knowing he has the slippery spinner right where he wants him – a bind with no loopholes even a master can find – so feeling magnanimous enough to let the evil imp carry out his task in his own way and on his own time. He might be a fallen deity, but that doesn’t keep him from a swelling sense of near-giddy satisfaction at the way their little détente has gone. Besting the Dark One is a rare occurrence indeed, and so he is shocked to have things proceed exactly according to his plans. Humming some snatch of an unremembered tune to himself, Hades began to stroll toward the lowest rings of his reviled dungeon. He needs to make sure all is ready for his awaited guests: his lost captain, the pirate he had barely begun to deliciously torture, and – he suspects – the Enchanted Forest’s Savior herself…

~~~~~000000~~~~~~~000000~~~~~~

Time seems to move in a sort of vacuum at Storybrooke’s hospital; for those waiting anxiously to hear news of Belle, her child, and their well-being it trickles so slowly as to not seem mobile at all. They sit, or pace, aimlessly – like islands separate from the rest of the hospital bustling around them, and from the rst of the world outside its walls. The small group came with Belle have been joined by an anxious Snow White, Prince Charming, and their second child, but none of those gathered speak, only wait and nervously hope for the best. Killian alternates between raking his hand in sharp frustration back through his much disheveled dark hair and jolting up to pace the waiting room from wall to wall and back a few times, then slumping into the chair by his brother and beginning the process over again. Emma wants to go to him, wrap him up in her arms, and promise him that this gentle kindred spirit he’s found – surely his best friend apart from her, her family, and his brother – will make it through this unscathed, but she stops herself time and again before she can reach out; not having the words nor the power to make such a promise. Instead, she stands in the room’s entryway, leaning against the wall and watching the distraught men before her.

In contrast to Killian, Liam is still as a statue, eyes focused somewhere far off that the rest of them cannot see. Emma would like to go to him to offer comfort as well: the right whispered words and a hand on his shoulder, but she is held back by uncertainty. She can’t read his thoughts, but the tension and worry within him is all too clear in the way he clenches and unclenches his fist over and over, studying the movement as if none of the rest of them are even there.

She can’t hold back a small, fond smile though as her gaze comes to rest on the third person in the room. He doesn’t move or speak, but Henry sits at Liam’s left elbow, offering stalwart support. Emma knows that Henry has taken to his “step-uncle” of sorts with incredible gusto ever since Liam was able to return to Storybrooke with them, but it isn’t until now that she clearly sees proof of just how deep the connection runs the other way as well. Henry has his chair so close to Killian’s older brother that their knees practically touch, and every so often Liam nods or reaches back to pat Henry’s hand, even if he doesn’t say a word or break from his near-trance of concentration. Clearly, he is drawing some relief from her son’s earnest presence.

Catching Henry’s eye, Emma offers him an encouraging smile and tosses him the water bottle she’d been to the vending machine to get. She is nearing the point of tapping her toe anxiously on the linoleum of the hospital floor or joining her True Love in his circuit of the room, when a nurse finally enters just behind her, clears her throat, and asks if they are waiting for an update on Belle Gold.

Killian and Henry are at either side of her in the next moment, and Liam fairly vaults across the room to stop just in front of this messenger. His throat works desperately for several moments, but when no words escape, Emma finally lays her hand softly on his forearm and answers for them all, “Yes, we are.”

The nurse dips her chin curtly, clearly not intending to waste time in delivering the news and heading back the way she had come. “Well, we had to sedate her. She was in such a state of distress that her heartrate was harmful to her and her fetus; thus the sedation to bring it down. She’s stabilized now, and aware again, but I’m afraid she is in labor. At this point in the pregnancy, the baby is still premature, but far enough along that she stands a good chance of being healthy and whole – if an extra bit small and fragile, now if –”

But she is interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Emma, Henry’s gasps and bugged eyes, Killian Jones abruptly demanding, “So the baby’s coming now? What can we do to help?!”, and the general clamoring to their feet and moving forward of Snow and David as well. Liam’s eyes are solemn and bright at this news as he whispers in soft awe, “A girl?...Belle so wanted a girl…”

The nurse’s gaze finds him at that and she beckons to him amidst their small crowd. She gives a short, apologetic smile to the rest of her captive audience, already shaking her head at the rest of them slightly in regret. “I’m sorry, there’s not time for more discussion now. I need to get back to the delivery room. The doctor will be out to notify you as soon as possible. Your friend is in good hands and doing as well as can be expected.” Turning her full attention to Liam alone then, she speaks to him over her shoulder while already beginning to move back the way she came, “You may come with me though, Captain,” she offers with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Someone has been asking for you.”

Liam is flabbergasted, jaw dropped for a moment until his younger brother huffs out a humored breath and jovially punches him in the shoulder adding, “Well, go on then!” and Emma nearly giggles at the break in the tension, lightly pushing him forward as well until he comes back to himself and snaps into motion. Without another moment’s pause, Liam hurries forward, all too ready to be back at Belle’s side if that is her wish.

~~~~~000000~~~~~~000000~~~~~~

Once Liam has disappeared from their sight, Emma takes Killian’s elbow and steers him toward two seats in the corner of the waiting room a bit away from everyone else. Her love looks more than a bit on edge and distraught for his friend and his brother, mouth pressed into a thin, tense line and hair practically standing on end from his pulling at it, but he still follows her lead without resistance.

When they have resettled themselves on side-by-side seats, turned towards each other, her fingers intertwined with his and her other hand grasping the smooth curve of his hook, Emma tries to really study Killian’s face deeply. She can see the stormy whirl of confusion, worry, and anger at both the situation and his inability to improve it, but she also needs him to break free enough to focus and hear what she is going to say. “Killian,” she starts, speaking slowly and plainly, “it’s going to be fine, okay? Yes, Belle’s early, but women have babies at this point and things work out. They’ll have to take precautions; Belle and the baby may have to stay in the hospital a little longer, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be alright in the end. Belle is strong – stronger than most of us give her credit for a lot of the time – and she’s got Liam at her side, and all of us out here pulling for her too. Plus, for all that he’s kind of a creepy letch, Whale’s a pretty good doctor. Quite a few people around here can attest to that.” She offers Killian a lopsided half smile at this last little concession, trying for a bit of soothing humor.

Her pirate returns the barest hint of a smile in return, but it’s clear he’s only forcing it to please her. Bobbing his head in just a bit of a nod, he agrees, “Aye, Swan, I know that,” but then he hesitates, wets his lips, and plunges forward more hesitantly, “but there’s more.”

Emma’s brow furrows, studying her True Love’s conflicted expression with genuine desire to understand, to sooth, and to support. “Tell me then,” she whispers, releasing his hook briefly to brush her fingers over his face, lightly tracing his jawline and then up across the faded scar high on his cheekbone. “I want to know what’s wrong, what I can do…Let me help.’

He shakes his head just slightly, bringing their joined hands up to press his lips to the back of hers. “Swan, would that you could, but there is nothing anyone can do to change this tale of woe.”

Emma, however, is not to be dissuaded and doesn’t pull back even an inch. She strokes affectionate fingers through his unruly hair with a sad, knowing little smile, realizing that whatever haunts him will be painful and something he possibly hasn’t been able to speak of for years. “Well,” she responds, “I can listen.”

Huffing out a sigh, Killian drops his gaze for several moments, studying their fingers laced together, the rings on his fingers, and even a loose thread at the hem of her sweater. When he looks up again and finally speaks, his voice is a hushed whisper. “Not only is Liam afraid for Belle right now,” Killian offers, “but this has to make him think of our mum.”

Emma can’t help tilting her head to the side in curious interest. It happens almost unconsciously. Killian has never offered to speak about his mother in even the most passing fashion, and she has wondered – quite often in fact, if the truth be told – what sort of woman Killian and Liam’s mother must have been. Now that she knows the real story behind what their father had done to his sons, she is even more certain that the woman who bore them must have been someone extraordinary, bringing two men into the world with such boundless depths of honor and bravery, despite the horrible paternal example they’d had and the many obstacles and trials the world had placed in their paths. Still, even with all of this in her mind, Emma tries to seem casual, only wanting to gently help when she urges him to continue, “Your mom? Why? You…You’ve never mentioned her to me before.”

Killian swallows hard; she sees his Adam’s apple bob in his throat and the way he seems to be gathering the strength to continue. She wants to make it easier for him, but some things just have to be said; must be spoken out loud and finally purged from the collective weight on one’s shoulders. So instead she merely waits, pressing his hand in silent encouragement, but not speaking.

“Aye, well, that would be because I never knew her,” Killian murmurs, his voice low, clearly wanting to share only with his True Love, and barely her at that. “She died just days after my birth…some sort of complications, infection…at least that was what my father told me when I asked later. The only memories I have of her are borrowed from what Liam told me. But he…” Killian falters here, his words wracked with pain and a sort of guilt that she hates to see in him, “he was seven. Old enough to remember all too well; to be frightened by what happened and miss his adoring mum who was just suddenly gone. He never made me feel as if he blamed my coming for her loss; he took such good care of me when neither of us had anything and he was still a child himself, but it must make it worse for him now. He cares deeply for Belle…and with this early labor…it has to take his mind back to a place he would rather not venture…”

Emma nods her understanding, throat tight with unshed tears and knowing no words are needed to convey her sympathy anyway. In the strangest of ways, it is yet another link between them where she can understand as few others would, having grown up with no mother that she knew of herself. Bringing their joined hands up to clasp to her heart, she simply has to wrap her other arm around him and pull her pirate in close. “This isn’t going to be like that,” she tries to reason convincingly, sounding far more confident than she feels.

“I hope you’re right, Lass,” he answers simply, allowing himself to lean on her support for several moments, head almost resting on her shoulder. “I hope you’re right.”

The quiet contact has almost managed to suffuse a sort of calm between them when they are rousted from the moment by Henry’s anxiously worried voice. “Mom! Killian!” he calls, already at Emma’s side almost before she processes his words. “Something’s happening! See?”

Henry thrusts the large, handsomely bound and well-loved book he has carried almost everywhere with him since he found her in Boston years ago before their eyes. A story has begun to form on the pages in front of them, but Emma merely glances at it, then returns her attention to her son for answers.

“I was writing down what’s happened today, hoping that later it might be nice for Grandma Belle – you know, help remind her how strong she is…” his voice trails off here and he shrugs almost sheepishly.

Before Emma can even start reassuring her son, Killian speaks up with a hand to the young man’s shoulder and a kind, soft smile. “That’s a wonderful gesture, Lad. Truly. And with Belle’s love for the written word, one that will mean much to her.”

Henry’s cheeks color slightly, clearly pleased with the man’s praise, but it doesn’t shift his focus for long. “Thanks, but that’s not what you need to see. Look there!” he points to the last few sentences on the page he has shown them, which end abruptly in a hasty splat of ink and unfinished scrawl off the edge of the thick paper. “I started to write one thing, and it was like the pen had a mind of its own. Some sort of inspiration brought this out before I could even think it. I think…maybe…the book is trying to warn us.”

Emma couldn’t help her surprise at that one. She’s learned that many things and people she never could have imagined being real did truly exist in Storybrooke, but this surprises her all the same. “Wait…Henry…you mean the book is speaking to you – or, through you?”

He shrugs, a bemused smile on his teenage face, knowing it’s crazy but also that it’s happening nonetheless. “More or less, yeah,” he affirms.

Their exchange has drawn in Snow and David as well. “The book did appear to me, and I just knew it should go to Henry,” her mother reasons softly, looking somewhat awestruck. “He is the Author after all, and the Truest Believer. Maybe it can tell him things others couldn’t read from it.”

Emma scrubs a hand over her face in an attempt to process. Shaking her head in good natured disbelief, all she can do is agree. “That makes sense, I guess. Honestly, it’s not even the strangest thing I’ve heard today.”

Killian huffs out a low, startled chuckle at her words, but then his eyes fall to the written words again and he gathers all too easily why Henry had been alarmed in the first place. His expression sobers in an instant, and his spine snaps straight, “Henry,” he breathes, fingers poised over the newest additions to the story, “does this mean…?”

Henry frowns along with the quick bob of his head that follows. “That’s what I was afraid of,” he answers seriously.

Emma finally turns her eyes to the words on the page long enough to read the new passage: “With the personal totems belonging to both Captains, the Dark One now had them trapped in a sort of thrall, a dense magical force field surrounding them which no one else could pass through and which held them motionless and still at the evil imp’s whim. ‘Now, if only I possessed something which belonged to the Savior as well, we could have Miss Swan and be on our way…’ he sing songed maliciously. Emma realized briefly that she was no longer in the hospital waiting room with her loved ones, but seeing and hearing this all play out behind her eyes; however, before she could break through any further the vision sucked her back under. Rumplestiltskin’s eyes glinted with a feral power more frightening than any other incarnation of him that she had yet encountered. She could see clearly from where she, Henry, her father, and Belle were standing on the outside of the pulsing, glowing wall of enchanted power, yelling and beating, desperate to find a way in. Their collective blood ran cold as Rumplestiltskin let out a gleefully sadistic cackle of triumph, ‘Oh wait,’ he crowed, ‘I believe I do!’ before he plunged his clawed, scaly hand into Killian’s chest, removing his heart and squeezing just enough to torment. ‘This is hers, isn’t it, Pirate?’ he mocked…

Her eyes fly back up from the page and Emma blinks dazedly, glancing around her at matching worried faces. “Did you guys see all of that too?” she whispers.

Killian takes her trembling hand in his while her family looks on in puzzled confusion. “Only what is on the page, Love,” Killian answers, brow furrowed in thought, “that the Crocodile possesses items which belong to Liam and I and will use them to trap us. But that is more than enough trouble for now, I would say.”

“There was more after that though…I saw it!” Emma presses, “It was like some sort of premonition.”

“Maybe some bit of foresight…from when you were the Dark One yourself?” Killian suggests hesitantly, hating to bring up that bleak time whatever the reason.

“It might be,” she muses, “but if that’s true, he thinks he’s going to take three souls back to Hades to save his own skin. And we are not going to let that happen.”


	7. we can feel so far from so close

chapter seven: we can feel so far from so close

The scene in the delivery room once Liam arrives with the returning nurse is one which sets his heart to rapidly pounding and sears itself upon his memory. So many medical personnel and apparatus surround the bedside and the person laboring within it that Belle is at first almost completely blocked from his view. When a few of those working on her move however, he will never forget the look in her eyes as they meet his across the room.

She’s holding onto a brave face, he can tell, but the fear and panic blaze through in a way that pierces the heart for one who has come to know Belle as he does. Liam is struck all over again by how little she deserves this torment and upset, this despair in a time that should be full of joy, and is galvanized again by the encompassing urge to help her in any way he can.

“Liam,” she whispers softly, her look plaintive, as if he would think for a second to refuse coming to her side. She works a hand free of the blankets, ivs, doctor and nurses around her to hold out to him, and Liam is across the room wrapping his larger fingers around her small, fragile ones in the next instant, before she can utter the rest of her obvious request that he come closer, hold her hand; give her something – someone – to lean on.

A small smile curves her lips just slightly, a somewhat relieved, if still duly worried, expression on her delicate face. “Thank you,’ she whispers, her voice so tiny as to be almost silent, and squeezes his fingers where they hold hers intertwined, gazing up at him with such a grateful, adoring gaze, blinding in the flash of clarity it brings him. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve such esteem from her, but he’ll not do anything to lose it or let her down – she’s been betrayed and mistreated too often and needs someone to depend on now more than ever.

Bending his head slightly, he presses his lips in a chaste kiss to her forehead, needing to touch her just then in a way he might not usually presume or dare to express so openly, grateful for her faith and trust.

If she is surprised, Belle doesn’t show it, instead she leans into the gentle kiss, humming in soft acceptance and pleasure for a moment, until she squeezes his fingers sharply once more and sucks in a pained breath at yet another strong contraction ripping through her.

“Steady Lass,” he soothes, aching for her, heart beating fast in concerned anxiety, wishing that somehow he could take the pain from her, but the soothing words come naturally to him as he brushes sweaty strands of hair off her flushed cheeks. “You’re so strong, Darling. You can do this. I know you can.”

Belle's nods in acceptance of his words, biting her lower lip in determination and pushing through the contraction – at this point only able to hope that her child will fight for her life as hard as her mother is fighting to bring her into this world. When she can’t stay silent with the pain any longer, Liam only gathers her closer with his arm around her shoulders, whispering encouragement about how well she’s doing and how in awe of her he is. The petite librarian has never worried about the physical force she exerts hurting someone before, but she worries briefly now that if she grips Liam’s hand much more tightly she may begin to snap bones, even in someone as much stronger and solider as he. She is about to hoarsely voice a sheepish apology and try to loosen her grasp when a fresh wave of agony from her midsection hits and she is tensing once again. Liam might suck in a surprised breath at her clutch, but he doesn’t comment or pull away, only offers more assurance all over again.

Looking up from her precious face, his gaze tracks with stormy intensity over her sheet-covered knees to pin Whale where he stands. “Is it normal for her to be in this much pain? Isn’t there anything more you can do for her?”

Whale has the good grace to look genuinely apologetic when he answers. It’s hard for anyone to dislike the sweet, generous, clever woman they’ve all seen more of in the months since Belle struck out on her own from her intimidating husband. She has easily endeared herself to almost everyone in Storybrooke – bringing people books from the library which she thinks they might enjoy, planning various literary-themes events for children and families, and generally working to make their little town a brighter, more pleasant place to live. He does not wish to see her in pain. Not to mention that Captain Liam Jones is more than a bit intimidating, staring him down on Belle’s behalf. Once long ago, when he’d had the younger Jones brother as a patient, Whale thought Killian a rather frightening presence within his hospital’s walls. He was the infamous Captain Hook after all. But staring down the elder sibling of the family, the doctor thinks briefly that in this case, history and legend may have taught a righteous fear of displeasing the wrong brother.

Checking Belle’s vitals once more and observing progress at his end of the hospital bed, the doctor swallows hard before answering Liam’s question aloud. “I’m sorry,” he shakes his head regretfully, “but no, there isn’t anything else we can do at present. With the sedative earlier, I hesitate to give her any other meds, and until we get this little one out and see what we’re dealing with, there’s really no way to make things more comfortable.”

Belle pats Liam’s forearm gently, as if – despite her own distress – to calm his and pull him back from acting in a manner they both know he’ll regret. When Liam looks at her with a curious lift to his brow, she shakes her head just slightly, persuading him without words not to take the anxiety they both feel out on the doctor who is genuinely doing his best to help them. She’s struck for a second by his younger brother’s resemblance to him in the wondering tilt of the head, but has too much else weighing and pressing for her attention to dwell on the adorably familiar quirk for too long; a few seconds and it flits off to the back of her mind.

Liam gives a quick nod of acquiescence to her before looking back to Whale with chagrin. “My apologies, Doctor,” he murmurs gruffly, “Of course you’re doing all that you can.”

Whale graciously accepts the apology and proceeds, looking to Belle and beginning to issue directions. “Okay, it’s almost time for this little trooper to join us. I know you’re tired and you’ve already been at this for some time, but on this next push, really bear down; she’s close to crowning. Ready?”

Belle nods rapidly, and Liam can feel the tense energy in her shoulders and arms as she steels herself. Dropping his chin to rest in the soft chestnut mane of hair at the crown of her head, Liam tries his best to embrace her, to offer every ounce of strength he can. He feels Belle release a long, low breath before bringing their joined hands to her trembling lips, kissing his large, weathered knuckles.

The energy in the room focuses and intensifies; that sweet gesture seeming to galvanize them all for just what they are trying to save. “Thank you,” Belle barely forces out in a whisper as she pulls back, readying herself for the final push. Her voice quavers, but she continues all the same, blinking back tears of exhaustion, worry, fear, and also something warm and encompassing, something that she hesitates to label and yet knows it must be, what feels a lot like love. This somewhat familiar sensation doesn’t trouble or confuse her though, as it has so often in the past; she doesn’t wonder how it managed to occur at all. One look at this strong, brave man beside her in support and encouragement and her heart swells with rightness and completion – joy even, after all this time. She feels that dauntless strength returning to her veins as well; the pluck and spirit which drove her to be a heroine years and realms ago alive within her once more. “Just…thank you…for being here,” she chokes. “Thank you for believing I can do this. I’m still me.”

“Anything, Lass,” he returns, and despite all the disappointments and deceptions in her history, the broken promises she has weathered in love, Belle is helpless but to believe him when he adds, “I would do anything for you.”

Whale watches this entire exchange without comment, gauging the nearness of the baby’s arrival, but he breaks in now. “Alright, Belle, are you ready to push?”

She nods determinedly, inching to sit up straighter. Liam anticipates immediately and eases close at her back to prop her up.

“That’s it, now on my count,” Whale instructs, holding his patient’s gaze until she nods her understanding. When he does give the command, she bears down so hard it feels as though her teeth are grinding together and her ears might pop at the strain. Falling back at the end of the Herculean effort, she pants in Liam’s hold, so drained, wrung out like a wet rag and praying this ordeal is nearly over.

“Catch your breath,” Liam soothes, smoothing matted, sweat-soaked flyaway hair off her brow, lips brushing against her temple in a soft caress. “That’s it, breathe in deep now. You’ve almost made it.”

He glances up to meet the doctor’s eyes over her head, and Whale gives him a stiff, serious nod of approval. They have to keep going; it’s time the little one was out and assessed for its needs. “One more time, Belle,” Whale urges moments later. “This one should do it. I can see her shoulder emerging…”

She shakes her head fitfully from where she leans depleted on Liam’s shoulder. “I-I’m not sure…I can.”

“Yes, you can,” her captain breathes in her ear like a mantra, smoothing her hair, burrowing his nose in it at the crown of her head. “You must. You’re bloody brilliant, Darling. One more push and your babe will be here with us!”

Biting down on the inside of her cheek so hard she almost tastes the tangy, sour blood her teeth draw with the pressure, Belle presses her lips in a thin line, forcing herself to carry on, to shove forward once more, for her daughter – for this child she needs so desperately to see into the world safely.

“Here she comes,” the head nurse relays from Belle’s knee, Whale concentrated on gently easing the infant from the birth canal to greet them at last.

Suddenly, as if a dam breaks, a band snaps, and Belle feels the pressure burst and rush free, tears pool and fall in sheer relief and exhaustion while she nearly laughs out loud with delirium, slumping again almost boneless into Liam’s side. Though the relief and the ebb of adrenaline has her eyes near fluttering closed, she can’t help watching anxiously as the doctor and nurses check the baby at the foot of her bed. At last, the tiny arrival lets out a reedy little mewl of displeasure, and Belle’s heart melts, a breath escaping her, more relieved at the sound than she can rightly express.

“There you are, Lass,” Liam murmurs softly, the breath and whisper warm at her temple. “See? Just like you – small but mighty. Belle…you did it.”

Her deep, teary brown eyes flick to his stormy dark blue ones then, admiration and a new grateful devotion in her gaze that he hasn’t received from anyone since Killian looked to him in amazement at the gift of a sextant long ago when they set out on their ill-fated heroes’ journey. A small smile quirks that lovely, clever mouth as Belle dips her head, but then looks up once more to hold his stare. “Thanks to you as well,” she returns. “You believed I could, Liam, and it kept me from being alone.”

In the glow of that moment, one of the nurses steps up close on Belle’s other side with the newborn, cleaned and wrapped in a soft, pink blanket, in her arms. The little one has been easily soothed, no longer crying aloud, but waving her little hands and snuffling slightly. While the woman hands Belle her daughter with the caution that she soon needs to be checked over more thoroughly and to be in an incubator for protection against infections and to lend warmth, she also lets them know it is not so urgent as to keep Belle from holding her new babe for a moment. The librarian is struck by how small, yet how perfect, this miracle of hers is. Brushing a hand lightly over the surprising abundance of downy dark hair, Belle giggles in a kind of dazed euphoria to find ten adorable fingers and toes and a moving, breathing child after all this waiting, and the panic of the last few hours. Bending to bestow a gentle peck of the lips to her daughter’s soft crown, Belle then turns to Liam, curious to see his reaction.

The flabbergasted expression on her captain’s face is more than she could have prepared herself for. Reaching out one hesitant finger, as if afraid the child might break at his touch, Liam brushes a soft stroke down the infant’s cheek, eyes full of wonder when they return to Belle. “She’s your daughter, alright Lass. Simply gorgeous.”

“I’m just glad she made it,” Belle avows, blinking back more tears with a fond, already enamored smile down at her daughter. For several lovely, perfect seconds neither of them can tear their eyes away from the wriggling, kicking, healthily pink little bundle in her mother’s arms, her little mouth puckered and shock of dark hair already curling on her forehead. “She does look like she’s just fine, doesn’t she?”

Liam nods, curious and charmed irresistibly, as he begins to draw his hand back, only to have the child latch onto the proffered digit before her and hold on as if to keep him close, much to both of their pleasant surprise. For several quiet minutes, they simply dwell in this bliss – almost a little family where they have been without for so long, joined by this new, fragile little link that they both already love more than life.

Eventually, however, their warm, perfect bubble is broken into by Whale, bringing them reluctantly back to reality. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Belle…Captain…but we need to get this little lady up to neonatal care, do a full examination, and make sure there aren’t any complications with lungs or other organs. That can sometimes be the case for moderately pre-term infants. The incubator certainly won’t do her any harm either…”

With a sigh, Belle moves to hand her little one back over to the waiting nurse with her cart all made up to transfer the child safely to the necessary floor of the hospital. Belle bends to kiss her daughter’s soft forehead in goodbye for the moment, adoring her sweet baby scent, when with a frightening puff of magic and smoke, her newborn vanishes into thin air.

Gasping, Belle’s eyes fly up to search the room frantically, heart literally lodging itself tight in her throat with the knowledge of just what must have happened and who is behind it even before a chilling giggle of wicked glee rings out in the shocked silence. Rumplestiltskin materializes as the full-on sparkling and scaled reptilian Dark One version of himself, on the far side of the room, infant in his arms. “Over here, Dearies!” he chortles, sadistically reveling in the horror-stricken looks on their faces. “Thought I had a right to see my own daughter after all,” he crowed.

As if on cue, the little bundle he holds begins to fuss and then wail unhappily, balling up her tiny fists and waving them wildly in the air. Her soft, pink complexion turns red with her continued squalling and though Rumple’s brow furrows slightly, as if perplexed that she doesn’t seem to know him immediately, he makes no move to give the child back. Belle’s arms ache with a mother’s need to hold and soothe her crying daughter, but weak as she is from the long, fraught delivery, and with his power, she knows attempting to wrest her baby from his clutches will get her nowhere. Trying for calm reasoning, she offers, “Rumple, she’s crying. If you’d just let -”

“Silence!” he orders, an angry motion of his hand slicing the air and cutting Belle’s words off on the tip of her tongue. “You don’t get to speak. Just listen. You won’t move on from me – certainly not with him!” He gestures to Liam with an angry move that frightens Belle for her sailor. “And I will not lose another child. Not this time.”

“How dare you speak to her that way?” Liam bellows, unfazed by the anger flickering in the Dark One’s eyes or the menace he holds in just a lift of his finger. “You would put the child at risk merely to have your way? After all that you’ve done!” He moves forward, forgetting for a moment in his high passion that there isn’t a sword strapped at his hip. He is about to charge forward anyway – unarmed – despite the other man’s magic and menace, when he finds himself frozen in place, rooted to the spot by the Dark One’s unnatural control.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, Dearie,” the imp cackles. “I’ll deal with you momentarily.” His attention returns to Belle. “You seemed to have forgotten, Belle, that you need me. You always will, so perhaps I must demonstrate.”

Belle’s eyes had shifted in concern to Liam, whom she can see struggling mightily to free himself and defend her, but unable to budge even the tiniest fraction. However, at those words, they fly back to her estranged husband. “What are you going to – No!” she begins to ask, then cries out in horror as he passes a glimmering hand over the baby.

However, in the next moment, her daughter has reappeared in her arms, happily cooing and burbling once more. “She will be fine now,” Rumple states proudly, “hale and hearty in every way.”

Belle is torn between a moment of gratitude and narrow-eyed accusation – even if he is trying to help, he doesn’t need to do it so ominously – until a moment later the other shoes drops and he reminds her once again that he is indeed truly the Beast, and not the man she once believed him to be.

“I’m sure you won’t believe me now, but have the good doctor check. In the meantime,” and here he practically gloats in his complete power over the situation, “the Captain and I have some unfinished business to settle. When I return, you will know what I’ve done for our daughter, this distraction,” and here he nods at Liam once more, “will be removed, and you will see that we should be together. As it will always be.”

Belle shakes her head, ready to either plead for Liam or argue her case, only to have Rumple vanish in a cloud of magic once more and take Liam with him. She has bowed her head over her daughter’s, tears of momentary defeat and desolation wetting the infant’s soft hair when Killian and Emma storm through the door a moment later. The stricken look of heartbreak on her face tells them all they need to know.


	8. if it all goes crashing into the sea

chapter eight: if it all goes crashing into the sea…

 

It didn’t take long for the rage and panic to kick into high gear, for Killian at least, knowing by the devastated grief and remorse in Belle’s eyes that something horrible had happened to Liam in just the short time since his brother left them in the waiting room, and sensing with the plummeting in his gut that her beastly husband has much to do with it. Emma’s heart rate ratchets up at the tension within her pirate beside her, and with her own dread at a similar conclusion.

“Where is he?!” Killian demands, not angry with Belle, but harsh in his urgency, mind replaying his brother falling to a cot in the Jewel’s quarters long ago, Milah’s collapse to the deck of the Jolly and the ashes of her heart on the wind, feeling once more the blinding pain of a severed wrist, hand lopped off like a stray vine at the Dark One’s whim. “Where has the bloody Crocodile taken my brother?!”

Belle sniffles despite herself, lower lip trembling as she tries not to spiral out of control. Certainly her horror and fear cannot equal the younger sibling who has just gotten his only family, his hero, back from beyond the grave, only to face losing him horrifically once more. Shaking her head, she clasps her daughter even closer to her breast. “I – I don’t know,” she replies, wishing with all her heart that she did. She would tell them in an instant and charge there right on their heels if she could. This is her fault an insidious whisper in her mind adds; Liam would be here with his loved ones were it not for her. “You know Rumple comes and goes at will with his magic. He popped in here grandstanding about how I couldn’t leave him, how I’ll always need him… L-Liam yelled at him – d-defending my honor – and Gold t-took him when he vanished again, said he’d remove the ‘distraction’…” A single tear that she can’t contain trails down her face at this, and Emma steps forward to squeeze the smaller woman’s hand in sympathy. 

“Is she alright at least?” Emma asks softly, nodding to the little one now cuddled peacefully in Belle’s arms and looking down at her affectionately. “She’s adorable, by the way,” Emma adds with a small grin, despite the nervous tension she feels as well.

“Thank you,” Belle manages with a slight dip of the head and quavering voice. “She seems to be. R-Rumple said he fixed anything that might have been wrong, b-but I don’t believe I’ll be taking him at his word this time. Whale will check her over for me.”

Killian steps closer as well, visibly forcing himself to calm as he draws near and gets his own curious look at the little one. Reaching a hand out, he pauses with brow raised in question, as if not sure his friend will welcome his proximity after his outburst, before stroking a single finger over her downy soft baby hair – much as his older brother had done. “I’m sorry, Lass. It is far from your fault. Are you alright?”

Belle only nods, beckoning him closer even as more tears she seems determined not to shed well up. “I will be, once we get Liam back. It’s him you’re right to be worried about. I wouldn’t blame you for resenting me anyway. He wouldn’t be in danger right now if he h-hadn’t been with me. I k-know that.”

Emma moves forward to correct their friend’s statement; genuinely ready to punch Gold right in his smug face the moment they found him, angry that he has managed to get someone as smart as Belle so turned around inside that she blames herself for his misdeeds, rather than laying the charges squarely at his feet where they belong. However, even as she opens her mouth to speak, she hears Killian’s melodious voice beat her to the task – and, as usual, is stunned by just how much care and understanding he manages to express in mere words.

“Now, let’s have none of that,” he cajoles, smiling almost shyly at her, coaxing one of her own onto Belle’s trembling lips for a moment. “I’m sure your little love is well. When the Crocodile means to do something, he generally manages it quiet handily. I’m sure this is no exception. As to the rest of it, I understand why he wouldn’t wise to lose a brilliant woman such as yourself. It’s his own dark actions to blame though – not your deciding you have to make some sort of life for yourself and for your child free from his deception. Even if Liam had known that this is where we would find ourselves, he’d not change a thing. He would flay me alive for making you feel worse… Will you accept my apology?”

“There’s nothing to forgive,’ she absolves simply, an easy shrug accompanying her quiet words.

They are silent for a few moments, processing what needs to be done next, but that is all it takes for Emma to know where they must go next and share it with both of them. “Maleficent’s cell under the library! That’s the place I saw when I read the changes to Henry’s book!” she exclaims urgently, tugging at Killian’s hand. “That has to be where he went with Liam!”

“Aye Swan,” Killian acknowledges with a terse dip of his head in agreement, squeezing her hand in his, but pulling her back instead of following. “I’ve no doubt that you’re right, but maybe you’d best stay here and make sure he doesn’t return for Belle or the little lass.”

Emma tilts her head, studying her pirate with narrowed eyes and a wry smile. “Really?” she asks with a note of incredulous exasperation. “Do you honestly think I’m that easily fooled? I just got you back from the literal dead, Killian! What makes you think I’m going to stand by while you charge into battle with your magical, immortal nemesis?”

“But it’s a trap, Swan,” Killian argues, his eyes flashing as the muscle in his jaw twitches. Emma tries to ignore the way both of those tells make her heartbeat double and her skin flush. “You can’t hand yourself over to the Dark One in such a manner.”

“Of course it’s a trap!” Belle breaks in, staring them both down with a sad, proud sort of determination. “Even in his greatest fits of passion, he doesn’t act without a plan. He has something sinister in mind for all of you, I know it.” The pain and shame in her eyes is broadcast so clearly that Emma has reached out to comfort her only to pull her hand back again uncertainly before she even realizes what she’s done. Whether Belle is blaming herself unjustly for putting the rest of them in his sights or berating herself for joining in a union with him and thinking she could help him change into the man he was meant to be, is anyone’s guess. “Neither of you should go. Emma, you need to heal me, and I’ll go to him. He can’t resist a deal, and I’ve got one to offer.”

“Belle, there’s no way…” Emma starts, only to be interrupted by Killian as he jolts forward to grasp Belle’s hand.

“Certainly not, Lass!” he begs. “Listen to yourself! You’ve barely caught your breath from bringing your wee one into the world and you can’t be doing anything of the sort. I couldn’t live with myself, nor could Emma…” he looks over his shoulder at her and she nods her affirmation, agreeing with him in every fiber of her being. “Nor would I ever hear the end of it from Liam, even if I could leave you to such danger. You need to rest, recover, and take care of your daughter.”

“But if I go to him, maybe…”

“Do not fool yourself. The Dark One has too much against me to ever let the grudge go, not when it can somehow benefit him besides. And I wager whatever bargain he has made with Hades dooms Liam as well, no matter what you offer.”

Somehow now feeling as anxious to be on their way as Killian, Emma forces herself to draw a calming breath and sit on the edge of Belle’s bed for a moment, making sure she has the other woman’s attention before she speaks. “Belle, you have to let us go. Liam needs you to come back to; he’s weathered so much and now he finally has something good, something to live for. We’re prepared. We know what we’re walking into. You’re going to have to believe me when I tell you that this ends now – today. Just because Gold has a plan doesn’t mean we don’t have one too.”

Killian turns to look at her with startled speed, one brow arching in surprise – not doubting her words, but this being the first he has heard of any plan. Though thinking back to her reaction when his brilliant love saw the additions Henry’s book showed her, he has no doubt that his princess’ sharp mind has been working on a solution ever since, whatever else they’ve been doing in the meanwhile.

“Yes, Pirate,” she states firmly, holding his gaze. “A plan – and it’s going to work.”

She stands, but not before grasping Belle’s hand tightly and making a vow. “We’ll be back soon – all of us. Trust me.”

Killian nods to his friend as well, his blue gaze doing its best to further boost her faith and confidence before following after his Swan as she charges into battle, resplendent in her righteous fury. Once outside Belle’s room and down the hall, Emma turns on her heel to face him and wraps her fingers around the metal curve of his hook. Whether she realizes it consciously or not, Emma has come to hold onto his moniker when stressed or preparing for dangerous situations, as if grasping the hard, steel proof of his strength and ability to survive grounds her for the fray.

Eyes roving his face, she speaks quickly, knowing they have no time to waste, for Liam’s sake and their own. “From what I saw in that vision, I’ve got a pretty good idea what Gold’s first move is going to be,” Emma says seriously. “I think I can prevent it and throw him off… Just hold still and trust me, okay?” She puts her hand over Killian’s heart as soon as he gives her his nod of acceptance.

In the next moment, a pulse of warmth and light emanates from her open palm over his chest, stunning in the peace it bestows and the sense of care and protection that washes over him, knowing it comes from the love of his life. Ever since Gold had held this organ in his hands atop the clock tower and Emma returned it to his chest after nearly losing him, Killian has especially loved when she covers it with her hand as if making sure it is still there and beating, but this instance is a magnification of that comfort. His eyes lift to meet hers, cheeks pinked slightly at the affection in her touch and her concern for him, her desire to protect him and keep him with her never failing to touch him deeply; the lonely pirate inside thrilling to the thought of no longer having only himself in the world.

He opens his mouth to ask just what she is up to, though in truth he has a quite good idea of her intent, when she simply gazes into his eyes for a moment, small grin curved across her lips and then leans forward, up onto her tiptoes to peck her lips against his cheek. “I’m making sure your heart stays right there in your chest from now on,” she offers in quick explanation to his unasked question.

As it turns out, she was smart to speak simply, because in the next moment Henry careens around the corner, face taut with anxious worry, book clutched in his hands and a finger inside to mark his place. “Mom! Killian! We’ve got to help Uncle Liam! Gold has him; the changed story has been growing since you’ve been with Belle!”

Emma nods decisively, showing Henry she agrees wholeheartedly while also moving forward to place her hands on his shoulders and look him squarely in the eye. He won’t like the second part of what she has to say. “We know, Kid,” she speaks to him as an equal, and with soft assurance, but also firmly letting him know her course is already decided. “Belle told us as soon as we got back there. Gold appeared in her room, did his usual power trip pronouncement, but when he vanished he took your Uncle Liam with him. We were just coming to tell you and your grandma and gramps that we’re leaving to get him back.”

Henry shakes his head in frustration. “No, you can’t go to him like that! He wants the two of you there! Let me help! I’m the Author! There must be something I can do if I’m with you.”

“It’s not up for discussion, Henry. I don’t think he’d hurt you – but Gold might do anything if he’s cornered. Killian and I know it’s a trap. We’re prepared. It’s going to be okay, and nobody else is going to get hurt.”

“You can’t know that!” Henry argues desperately, but Killian steps forward then, looking his adopted son in the eyes before he can say more. They have to get going soon; the desperation is jangling along every nerve now, but he will not leave this young man he loves nearly as much as his mother, bereft and angry.

“Henry, there is one thing you can do – from here,” he offers calmly, resolutely waiting to see how the determined lad will respond. Henry’s gaze shifts to the Captain, searching for sincerity, waiting to hear the rest of this peace offering. “Belle could use someone with her right now,” he begins softly, “understandably so. She’s blaming herself and wants to go after Rumple to save Liam, but she’s still weak from delivering her little girl, and now she fears for both the child’s safety and the very life of her love. Will you sit with her to keep her safe, make sure she doesn’t do anything rash? If anyone can distract or bring her some solace now, it’s you – because you are the Author…and her grandson.”

Henry is smart enough to know that he is still being safeguarded and appeased, but he does appear to think over and accept Killian’s words. He has a good heart, enough so that once considered, it does go out to Belle. Finally he nods, his eyes solemn and decided. “Fine. If you won’t let me go with you, then yes, I’ll stay with her. She does need to know she’s not all alone waiting.”

“Thank you,” Emma whispers, voice the tiniest bit husky with emotion as she pulls him closer to kiss him on the forehead before steeling herself to go on. “It’s for the best, kid, you’ll see. You’re the one who’s always had so much belief. Use that for us now, okay?”

“Aye, Lad, your faith in this venture certainly wouldn’t go amiss,” Killian adds. He gives a playful nudge of his hook to Henry’s shoulder, a practiced mode of teasing between them now.

“As you wish,” Henry offers with a smirk, playing right back, but well aware of the hidden meaning to the phrase. The Princess Bride was one of the first movies they had made sure to show Killian and Liam, and it warms his stepfather’s heart.

Henry disappears into Belle’s room just behind them, and Emma and Killian move forward, deciding to send her father and mother a text about where they are heading, as well as Regina just to be safe, rather than being held up again when Snow White and Prince Charming try to insist on accompanying them. They don’t have any more time to waste arguing while Liam’s life hangs in the balance.

Once they have started, feet pounding down the pavement in the chill air of Storybrooke’s main street, they reach the library within minutes. As they near the entrance, their steps slow just a bit, still completely attuned to each other and sharing a silent look, not wanting to give the Dark One any more warning than he already has. With a nod to Killian, at his returning dip of the head in encouragement, Emma steps forward, pushing open the door and stepping inside, her other hand finding his hook to hold onto, reminding herself that he is right by her side.

The library itself is silent and dark, closed without its beloved caretaker, and waiting hushed and still for her return. From Henry’s storybook, both know they need to take the elevator down to Maleficent’s cavernous chamber, which is where Gold is holding Liam in wait for them. Despite how foreboding the idea is, they cross the open space to the lift without hesitation, Killian raising the gate and opening the heavy door while Emma focuses on the various levers and dials – trying to remember how she had seen the thing operated before.

Inside its solid walls together as the rickety descent takes them deeper into the bowels of the edifice, a date with destiny facing them yet another time, no words are needed between them. The look that passes from blue eyes to green and back against is deep, intense and nearly electric with emotion and promise while Killian brings their joined hand and hook up to press his lips to her knuckles, before she then leans in close to him for a moment, soaking in his warmth and strength from nose to knee, right up against his solid form until impact with the underground floor brings them to an abrupt stomach-dropping halt.

Stepping out onto hard-packed dirt and stone, surrounded by dark grey cavernous walls and the oppressive darkness, both of them have to take a moment for their eyes to adjust before they can see to go on. However, it takes no longer than those few seconds for them to notice the flickering of torchlight or something similar along a wall off to their right from around a hidden bend. Still without speaking, they creep forward, no longer holding onto each other, but keeping close enough that their shoulders brush occasionally while trying to be as swift and silent as possible. 

That is, they do until a horrendous masculine scream rends the air around them, echoing off the walls and making Emma’s blood run ice cold. It is clearly Liam’s wracked, wrung-out voice and her stomach churns at imaging what could make the generally stoic and quietly collected sailor she has come to know sound so tortured. She grits her teeth, hoping she can mentally prepare herself for what may greet them when they find Killian’s brother, but there is no such steadying influence for her husband. With an almost inhuman howl of rage from deep within his chest, Killian pulls ahead of her and makes it around the unseen curve in their path, desperation to find out and stop what his old nightmarish crocodile is doing to his beloved sibling spurring him forward.

And then all Hell breaks loose.

Rounding the corner on Killian’s heels, Emma is brought up short by the sight before her eyes, a wail of her own anger and dismay building in her throat. She doesn’t even see Gold at first, her eyes flying to the far wall of the dismal chamber where the obvious glow of magic holds Liam motionless, pinned against the rock wall helplessly. Clearly Killian has run straight to his brother, heedless of all danger in his frenzied concern, and is now likewise caught in whatever force field holds his brother captive, unable to free Liam or move from it again himself.

“Brother,” Liam grits out, chest heaving and eyes rolling, the sweat that stands out on his forehead clear evidence that whatever he has been suffering has been going on for some time, regret and loving exasperation mingling with the fear for Killian’s safety as his eyes shift to take in his younger sibling. “What are you doing here, you stubborn, noble fool?”

Killian doesn’t answer, his hand outstretched where he was about to reach Liam and try to free him, now frozen in place. A tight smile manages to form on his lips before he returns Liam’s question with typical insouciance in the face of danger. “Come now, Brother, did you honestly think I would let you sacrifice yourself alone and get all the glory?”

Killian’s words are light, but his gaze flicks to Emma and her heart skips faster, reading the plea in his eyes for her to get out while she still can, to leave him to his fate, things have already gone worse than expected. She pauses, motionless, thinking rapidly if she knows any spells to release such a body bind or break a strong physical hold with magic. 

Her thoughts are scattered when a teasing, sing-song voice rings out, tauntingly familiar as she turns to find Gold seated on an overturned hunk of slate, looking for all the world like the reptilian monster he appeared in her brief trip to the past, the one her parents had so often faced. It certainly doesn’t bode well for any of them that he appears so sickly entertained by the tableau playing out before him.

“Well, well, well, Dearie… What have we here? Two thoughtless pirates and a stupidly heroic Savior come to rescue them.” His voice practically purrs with gleeful satisfaction, a little chortle escaping on the tail end of his words. His hands are steepled before him, pointer fingers tapping together thoughtfully before he suddenly springs down from his perch and stalks quickly, powerfully, toward her.

Emma braces herself, sicker of this villain and his constant betrayals and intimidation than scared. Even when Killian’s choked cry of her name reaches her ears along with a hoarse, “Get out of here,” she doesn’t budge.

Shaking his head in mock dismay, Gold comes to stand right before her, nearly nose to nose if they were the same height. His eyes glitter like the flecks of shimmer in his sickly hued skin, and his words nearly make her shiver until she reminds herself – not this time, not today. She won’t lose her everything again. “Ah, ah, ah,” he chides, shooting quick, malicious glance at Killian, “escape is not in the cards for any of you.”

“We’ll see about that,” Emma hisses back, holding his threatening stare with one of her own, no longer willing to cower or appease this man, no matter how powerful. The price is too high.

Gold turns away, making a show of not being the least bit afraid to give her his back and move toward the imprisoned Jones brothers at a comfortable stroll, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “You always have been brave, Miss Swan – if not terribly patient or clever – but in this case you see, there’s nothing you can do. I used a treasured possession of each of these thieving mongrels before me to bind them. Not only physically within this created space, but their souls, their very essences as well, until Hades comes to collect his due. So you see, no dashing rescues will work. Pulling them out now, even if you could, would leave them mere lifeless husks of themselves. All that is yet to happen is for me to find an item of equal value to you, ‘Savior’,” he spits the title with venom. “You complete the set Hades has required.”

“Good luck with that,” Emma growls, blood boiling, emotions churning faster than she can name or recognize. She takes a determined step after him, not sure what she plans to do but bound to stop him, whatever the cost. 

The traitorous imp has reached Killian when he turns to offer her a hateful sneer. “No luck required…you foolishly brought you most precious possession right along with you.” Without even a pause, he then viciously plunges his clawed hand into Killian’s chest, clearly striking right where he aims and squeezing her pirate’s heart in his cruel grip.

Emma’s own heart seizes in her chest, despite having seen a vision of it and knowing they were ready, the sight of Gold attempting to take Killian’s life still robs her of breath. However, much to her relief, the protection she used clearly holds; her pirate’s fate will not be the same as Milah’s, as Graham’s, as countless other victims of this Beast’s and his pupils’ dark magic. Gold goes to draw his hand out, obviously already prepared to crow about her ‘lovesick puppy’s’ heart belonging to her before he crushes it to dust. Yet, though he repeatedly pulls and strains to jerk his hand back toward himself, he cannot do so while it holds tightly to Killian’s organ. His heart cannot be removed.

Though clearly in pain, her husband grits his teeth, refusing to cry out, and Emma brings her gaze back to level on their nemesis. “Not this time,” she vows in cold, set tones. “You can’t have it. His heart is safe, and it’s staying that way.”

Gold’s eyes narrow and his deceptively wiry frame nearly vibrates with rage. The way his features morph into something inhuman is freakish, and though she wants to shrink away, Emma doesn’t back down. Truly reptilian in sound, he charges her, finally losing his proud, confident reserve in an outburst of fury. “You troublesome, difficult – ”

Emma is set for impact, just about to throw up a magical shield to block his attack, when Rumple jerks to a halt at the order of a new voice ringing across the open space. “Rumple, Stop!”

Belle’s voice, shaking but strong, brings her estranged spouse up short. Though she holds no actual sway over his powers, she evidently does affect whatever sliver of his blackened heart still remains. Emma swings to see what he glimpses over her shoulder, and she sucks in a breath at the sight of Henry there as well, lending a still-weak Belle his shoulder for support, a dogged look on his face and his book in hand.

Tears flow down her pale cheeks as Belle takes one tremulous step after another until she stands at Emma’s side. For one aching, laden second, Emma thinks the other woman may reach to take Gold’s outstretched hand, twine their fingers together and use herself as bait to win him over with what he has said he wants. Instead, she merely stares at him, shaking her head sadly. Now that the scales have finally fallen from her eyes, they cannot be put back nor can she see him in the same way again. “Haven’t you hurt everyone enough?” she whispers, pain and anger twisted up together in her voice. “How can you be so selfish? So cold? It’s still the same thing that has always stood between us…”

She swallows hard, having to suck in a steadying breath and actually weaving into Henry a bit – physically not ready for this amount of strain. Liam can’t move, but the tortured worry for her in his eyes tightens Emma’s throat even from across the large space.

Rumples reaches toward his wife, but she jerks back, shaking her head. “No, stay back! You won’t win me back or fool me with your lies this time. Your cowardice has destroyed that man you could have been – he isn’t there when I look at you now. And…and I can’t do this anymore.”

“Belle…” he starts, pleading in the voice that had been all calculating boast mere moments before. “You don’t understand. I am still that man… but this… this is what has to be done.”

“Then I have to do what I must as well,” Belle sniffs wearily, not looking at all triumphant but resigned, as she stands taller and lifts her chin, shooting a quick glance over at Henry, an unspoken signal passing between them.

It seems then as if the whole cavern and all in it hold their breath as Henry flips the book open quickly to an already written line. With one more regretful look at the man who could have been his doting grandfather, he uses the Author pen to place a period at the sentence’s end before anyone can stop him or say a word.

A loud SLAM as of a door banging irrevocably closed forever sounds, a flash of blinding light engulfs the echoing chamber around them, and suddenly all goes dark.


	9. it's just you and me

chapter nine: it’s just you and me

 

For a moment, no one speaks, barely breathes, nearly rocked off of their feet and reeling from the burst of power just detonated in their midst. Then, as the stunned spell breaks, the invisible bonds holding Liam to the wall vanish and he nearly topples in weakened collapse, falling forward onto his knees before either Killian – also now free – or Belle, who rushes forward with a cry of relief, can steady him. She is there in the next moment, however, pulling Henry as her human crutch right along with her. Kneeling quickly to face him, Belle pulls Liam forward to lean against her breast, stroking anxious, trembling fingers through his blood and sweat-matted curls, and Liam, showing just how much his body has clearly been through and how much it has drained him, leans into the support, letting his forehead rest on her shoulder; he and Belle both more than a little unsteady and shaking, but bearing each other’s weight gladly.

“Liam, are you okay? I thought I’d lost you,” she keeps whispering, stroking his cheek gently until he finally manages to rasp out, “Aye, Lass…or at least I will be.”

Henry looks on, appearing equally relieved that his newfound uncle is still alive and here before him, but he also looks up at Killian, now standing beside him, and the smile he offers his stepdad as Killian squeezes his shoulder in reassurance is tremulous at best. It has been much too close a call.

Emma wants to run forward into Killian’s arms that second as well. But she stays in place, stance ready and hands up, eyes scanning for Gold to reappear. He has vanished with the impact and its repercussions, but Emma won’t let him catch her off guard a second time. Finally, as a minute and then two trickle by uneventfully, she calls out to Henry. “What was that you guys brought, Kid? What did it do?”

Henry has a pleased smirk stretched over his mouth as he turns to answer her. He grins at his mother with almost the same cheeky expression he had used on her at their first meeting years ago when he’d called her bluff and convinced her to take him back to Storybrooke herself. “I’m the Author,” he says matter of factly. “I told you I could help.”

Emma comes toward him as he pauses, nodding that she understands and acknowledging that he may even be right, but not going so far as to apologize for her actions in trying to shield him. She is still his mother, and she is allowed to want to keep him safe. By the time he speaks again, she has reached him and ruffles an exasperatedly affectionate maternal hand over his hair, pulling him to her for a quick hug. “I’m just glad you’re alright,” she presses against his cheek.

“Belle and I talked,” Henry says, cutting a glance to the librarian, which she returns from where she still kneels with Liam, “and we both understood why you wanted us to stay back, but we also couldn’t just let the people we love most fight our battles for us and go into danger without even trying to help. I picked up the book, making sure I understood where it said you were going, and then the pen was glowing and I just knew. I saw it all play out, and so I wrote the ending that was meant to happen.”

Emma pulls Henry along with her as she embraces Killian with the free arm that isn’t still wrapped around her son; leaning her head against her husband’s shoulder, pure relief makes her sag a bit into his support. She’d been ready to fight Rumplestiltskin to her last breath, but she’s glad it didn’t come to that. So overwhelmingly glad. Not only is everyone she loves, everyone she was fighting to save, safe, but she herself is still standing and able to enjoy it.

Killian, however, apparently still has a few questions before he can let the matter go. “Wait, but what exactly did happen? Where did he go? How did you defeat him?”

This time it is Belle who speaks, looking up from where she is sitting on the cold, hard cave floor, leaning against Liam, who has caught his breath and, though battered and weary, looks infinitely better than he did mere minutes ago, simply at being free and having the woman he loves back in his arms. Her voice is solemn and sad, but only quavers a bit when she answers simply, “He had to pay his debt himself instead.” 

Liam chafes a gentle hand over her upper arm when she shivers involuntarily, and for the moment that seems to snap all of them back to the present and into action, moving to get Belle back to the hospital and her baby daughter, and to get Liam there to be checked over as well.

Once everyone has been cared for, and Liam and Belle have been checked into a room for the night, Snow, Charming, and Regina have been at least partially appeased at being left behind and out of the showdown, and the whole extended family is reunited, Henry explains to them more fully what Belle had meant and how they had known they could make things work as they intended. Both Emma and Regina, not to mention his doting grandparents and stepdad, have to bite their tongues quite strenuously not to scold or reprimand Henry for outright disobeying them as well as taking such an incredible risk, but they let him tell his tale without interruption. Though they are loath to admit it, when honest with themselves, all of them knew that as rapidly and horribly as things had devolved, if Belle and Henry hadn’t acted, their family would even now be three members short – forever.

Henry shakes his head in an exasperated, but also somewhat grateful, motion, hard to be frustrated at finding himself so loved, at everyone fussing and their intense relief. “I know I’m not allowed to alter the story for my own purposes, or just to get my happy ending. Believe me, seeing how messed up things were when Isaac tried that was warning enough. But that wasn’t what this was. I just had a sense, an instinct, of poetic justice; this was how the story was meant to go, once Gold chose his path. My job is to record and make sure the right story is preserved. When I went to do it and the pen glowed, that just confirmed we were right.”

He shrugs even as Regina seems to be biting back proud tears through her harsh exterior and Emma looks like she might want to pull him to her chest and never again let go. “See? Really, I wasn’t in that much danger. Even the Dark One couldn’t stop what was already the story’s conclusion.”

Emma shakes her head, knowing there is nothing to do about it now, but needing to remind him. “I don’t know about that,” she murmurs, tilting her head in thought and shooting a gauging look across at Regina. “It all worked out. I’m glad you’re okay and that we’re all safe, but still…”

“Still, even if you might theoretically be right,” Regina chimed in, “why don’t you get me for backup next time?” Her voice brooks no dissention, and they all have a chuckle at the knowledge that in this crazy town, they can’t even doubt there will be a next time to fight.

Perhaps because it had originally been his price to pay, or because of his selfish motives and cowardly methods, or possibly just that he had tried to bend and cheat the hands of Fate and his mortal coil one time too many, but when Gold had attempted to ensnare Emma as well, and use she, Killian, and Liam’s souls in exchange for his child’s and his own as Hades was owed, Henry as the Author had been able to thwart his goal. “Basically, since Gold was the one who originally owed the debt, when we stopped him from taking you guys,” Henry shrugs, trying to seem modest, but rightfully a bit flushed with adrenaline and pride, “it reverted back to him and it was his soul Hades took instead.”

His eyes flick to Belle again, and though a brief, haunted shadow crosses her face, and her eyes are momentarily sad, Emma senses that it is more for the time lost and what might have been than genuine regret the librarian feels now for the way things have worked out. She strokes a tender hand through Liam’s curls and along his strong, sharp jawline, drawing fortification from the knowledge that what they’d had to do allows him to still be here.

“So he’s…in the Underworld?” Emma clarifies, needing to be certain, both that Gold will not be threatening them anymore, and that she is clear on what has occurred.

Henry nods, looking a bit grim, but it is once again Belle who answers, her voice sure even if soft and a bit pained. “Yes, his soul was forfeit when he didn’t bring Hades the ones he had promised. I don’t know the specifics of the deal they struck, but I can only imagine the Lord of the Underworld was willing to exchange even a soul he already thought of as his…” she squeezes Liam’s hand tightly at those words, clearly still incredibly relieved her captain is next to her, “for the chance to have the power of the Dark One in his service. It was horrible, and final, but Rumple didn’t really leave us any other choices.”

“You did well,” Liam soothes quietly, brushing a calloused palm over her shoulder, fingers sifting fondly in her thick, auburn hair. ‘I may sound as if I say that in self-interest, but you protected the Savior and my little brother as well.” His reassurance and gratitude clearly bolster her further, before Emma, Killian, or any of the others can even move to tell her the same. A calm quiet reigns in the room for several moments while Belle leans over from her seat on the edge of Liam’s hospital bed, where he has been convinced to remain for 24 hours’ observation and recovery, her forehead coming to rest lightly atop his, his mussed curls pleasantly tickling her skin.

When the silence is broken once more, it is a quizzical Killian who poses the next question to his older brother. Even as he does so, he hates to disturb the quiet moment; knowing how all too few and far between they can be in this town and in the life they lead. Despite Liam’s recent physical suffering at the Crocodile’s hand, Killian does not think he has ever seen such ease on his sibling’s face. Even when they were young together in the Navy, Liam had borne so many cares, such responsibility for both himself and Killian that he had been too young to shoulder, and those burdens had worn away at him. Now, looking at that beloved face lost to him for centuries, Killian sees that much of the weight has fallen away. Liam looks as happy, as at peace, as he has ever seen him. Still a part of Killian is simply too curious to refrain. “What did the Crocodile possibly have to bind you?” he asks. “I know the ruddy beast possesses – well, possessed – my hand. Kept it as a bloody trophy. But how would he have anything of yours?”

Belle colors slightly, a flattering blush high on her lovely pale cheeks. “That might be due to me,” she offers meekly. “That pocket watch you gave me, Liam? I tucked it into a keepsake drawer in the library, with some other meaningful things that I just like to have close at hand. He must have gotten in and taken it."

All eyes turn to her then, curiosity spurred in more than just Killian’s mind now. She looks so small and so repentant that Emma’s heart goes out to the other woman, even as Liam’s hand reaches out to cover her knee in comfort, whispered words in a pacifying lilt that easily reminds Emma of the tone of comfort Killian uses with her when she is troubled, knowing without doubt that he learned it from the man before her now, who while still a boy himself had once fought to protect and assuage a younger brother’s hurt. “There now, Lass. No one blames you. You couldn’t have known what that villain would do.”

Belle shakes her head slowly, clutching Liam’s fingers like a lifeline and her teeth clearly digging into her lower lip in distressed thought. “Oh, but I should have…” she sighs, bowing her head. “I should have accepted long ago just who and what he is.”

Snow steps forward, her maternal instinct and caring no longer able to stay silent as she lays a gentle hand on Belle’s shoulder. “You had hope and faith that he could change. How can you be faulted for that?”

Emma nods her agreement, blinking back an unexpected welling of tears and lump in her throat, after all that has happened in the last few hours, and thinking back on the incredible belief and hope of so many others in this room that allows them to be here together now at all. Snow’s refusal to give up on the Regina she had first met, even in the other woman’s most terrible throes as the Evil Queen; Henry’s raw instinct and faith in her, coming to find her and bring her to her destiny, and even Killian… She looks over at him suddenly, not even caring if the moisture in her eyes spills over and others see, not when she finds him already looking back at him with silent adoration and a smile that says he already knows what she is thinking and shares her emotion. His hope, patience, and determined love for her may well have been the only things which could have brought her cold, closed heart back to life, the scenes leading them here flitting through her mind in quick succession: “I was hoping it would be you…”, “I was hoping it meant something…”, and the countless times he had found his way back to her when no one else would have tried or could have managed.

The small group around them is already breaking up for the night, dispersing to go to their various homes and let Liam – and Belle – get the rest they need, as Emma reaches for her pirate husband’s hand and he meets her halfway, threading their fingers together just as they were meant to be. 

Belle gives Henry a proud and spunky smile as she whispers how brave and heroic he’d been in his ear when he hugs her goodnight before leaving. “Thanks for being my shoulder to lean on,” she finished. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Her son blushes and ducks his head, though also clearly pleased, before mumbling, “Right back at ya, Grandma,” in a humored sort of way.  
Liam sits forward as well to shake his nephew’s hand, speaking to him seriously in a way Emma knows will mean a lot to Henry as he adds, “Yes, thank you, Henry. I owe you a debt of gratitude I won’t forget. You and Belle saved all of our lives.”

Knowing that her son is headed to Regina’s for the weekend and that she will see all of them for brunch at Granny’s tomorrow anyway, Emma doesn’t feel all that guilty when, after saying a quick goodbye and ruffling Henry’s hair once more, and watching Killian bid his brother farewell for the night, they slip out together. Looking back form the hall through the observation window, she can see both Belle and Liam finally letting their guards down as the weariness begins to show. The rest of their visitors are gathering their things and moving to the door, and the last thing Emma sees is Belle reclining at last at Liam’s side, her head on his chest, his lips pressing to the crown on her head, and both of their eyes fluttering closed.

Killian squeezes her hand gently then in question as they move toward the exit together. “Where to now, Love?” he asks lowly.

She gives him a sideways glance full of mischief and promise, urging him forward as she warms to her plan. “I was thinking we might pay a visit to your ship, Captain,” she answers, arching an eyebrow in the way he usually employs on her, her further intentions abundantly clear. “Making sure we aren’t interrupted are you, Princess?” he quips, waggling his own dark brows at her in return. The way he purses his lips, as if holding back a secret, showing that he knows and revels in just how much she always, always, wants him.

Their bodies sway close together like magnets, brushing against one another from shoulder to hip as they exit the hospital and walk hand-in-hand down the nighttime street toward the docks. The need for physical proximity, to be right next to each other whenever possible is nothing new, but it is amplified now by how close they have once more come to ruin and death.

When they do stand beside Killian’s ship once more, Emma has reached the end of her tether, needing to be on the Jolly and out of plain sight so she can press herself against her pirate until no space exists between, so he can hold her without letting go, until her heart stops racing at the thought of losing him. Killian barely gets a moment to give the wooden hull of his old girl an affectionate pat before Emma raises her hand, and with a twist of her wrist, places them both on board, magically transporting them in an instant to face each other at the forecastle.

Before either of them can even catch their breath or regain their bearings, Emma surges forward, gripping her husband’s lapels as she did long ago in Neverland, and haula him in for a frantic kiss, pushing his back against the helm as she does. 

A grunt of surprise muffled by her desperately questing mouth escapes him, but it certainly doesn’t take long for Killian to respond with equal fervor, wrapping his arms around her and making Emma shiver as his hand and hook traverse her back in sensuous exploration. They move together in a dance they’ve perfected; burning alive as they have so many times before, and yet hungering for – needing – every moment of contact and connection, to show the other just how much they are loved now that they once again have the chance.

When they must finally part to suck air into their lungs, Killian gasps, “Emma,” chest heaving, his speech ragged as he struggles to catch his breath, swiping a hand through his dark hair to brush it off his forehead, mussed and disheveled by her eager fingers. “Not that I ever mind being kissed by you, Love, but what brought that on?”

She licks her lips, edging right up next to him again with a predatory gleam in her eye, tracing a finger over his exposed pectoral, still aching for more even as she sucks in air as desperately as he does. “Just being glad that I can,” she replies saucily. Batting her eyelashes coquettishly while looking up into his face, she is reeling him in and he is helpless to resist, all too happy to drown.

After one last deep, soul-melding kiss, they part only slightly, as if in unspoken agreement, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then, with infinite care Killian turns her in his arms, pulling her into his embrace once more, but this time with her back to his chest as she leans on him, both of them looking out over the starlit water. There is no need to rush this. No one is looking for them, their enemy has been vanquished, and they can have this one night to rest.

They’ll go below to his cabin soon, but for this rare second all is right, and they stop to savor it together. The white pinpricks of light dance on inky waves, and Emma feels the lull of the peaceful moment and the Jolly’s gentle rocking. Smiling up at her pirate, she at last dares to hope that there will be hundreds more nights just like this.


	10. epilogue: no longer ships in the night

epilogue: no longer ships in the night

 

~ eight months later ~

 

A light breeze on the placid, sunlit June morning comes in the opened windows of Storybrooke’s library, as Belle has opened them all to air the stuffy old building which sometimes takes on a bit of a musty smell along with the alluring scent of ancient pages. It has never bothered the librarian, reminding her more of adventures yet to be taken, but she knows it can be a bit off-putting for most, as it can even tickle her nose a bit from time to time.

Liam had helped her push them all up to let in the morning air before he left for the docks that morning in the early pre-dawn light. The gentle gusts had ruffled her hair as she looked up into his rugged face, her word of thanks for helping with the corner frame that always sticks catching in her throat as he touched her face to brush off a flyaway strand, complete awe and adoration on his features, and she nearly forgot how to breathe. Tucking the auburn lock delicately behind her ear, his fingers had lingered and she’d bitten her lip, shiver running through her, and she suddenly didn’t want him to go even as far as the water today, wanted to lock everyone else out, hold him close, and never let go.

“There you are, Lass,” his warm voice, low and deep, had prolonged the shudders in her stomach. He seemed hesitant to leave as well, even if he would return on his lunch hour as he often did; often stretching it to an hour and a half or ever two, and no one in town seems inclined to complain, or even notice. If they spend that extra half hour in a far back corner like two lovestruck miscreant teenagers, his pleasantly solid weight pressed against her while she leaned back against the shelf of outdated encyclopedias no one ever looked at anymore… well, Belle smiles, deviously pleased with herself, that’s their little secret.

Now, however, at half past noon, he is back with her and his lunch isn’t yet over. Liam doesn’t need to leave for another half hour at least, and he has joined her in re-shelving books the town’s residents have finished and returned. She is up on the ladder, sliding her beloved tales back into their places in the stacks, while Liam follows along with the cart, handing them up to her and – she knows – staying at the ready if she would reach too far, lose her balance, or risk falling in any way. She shakes her head slightly, knowing it’s a slim chance any such thing would happen – she’s been up and down ladders in libraries as long as she’s been able to walk – but she can’t help the touched, affectionate chuckle to herself. Liam’s protective streak a mile wide is just one of the many things she loves about him. 

As if sensing her mother’s happy mood, Belle’s daughter chortles happily from her bassinet in the corner, waving her chubby little hands gleefully at the two of them and jabbering in her own cheery baby language. 

“Is that so, Little Lass?” Liam calls over good naturedly, causing Mina Collette to squeal in delight at the sound of her favorite voice after her mother’s. 

Belle smiles at both of them from her perch; a few short months ago, she could never have imagined the scene before her. It had seemed nearly impossible to have things work out this way – with nearly all her girlish hopes for a home and family of her own come true. Liam has turned out to be a doting surrogate father; she amends even that with a quick glance down at the glittering ring on her finger and a flush comes to her cheeks; he is soon to be father in name and law as well. He is completely wrapped around the infant’s finger, and could not love Mina any more if she were actually from his own flesh and blood. Belle can’t help but think that this is just another way her literature-inspired name suits her little girl. Just as Mina Harker had inspired the devoted protection and chivalry of an entire team of men in Bram Stoker’s classic, her daughter seems to have done much the same in Liam, Killian, Henry, and almost anyone else she comes into contact with. Belle had chosen the name for one of the first bravely self-possessed and intelligent female heroines in Victorian writing, hoping her daughter would be as stalwart and true in whatever she might face, with the middle name a tribute to her own beloved and long lost mother. However, she has found that the second fit is amusingly apt as well.

At any rate, this brilliant, noble, giving man, who laid down whatever childhood he could have had in indentured servitude to try to be father, example, and only family to his younger brother could well have been lost here in this modern world – a man out of time, purposeless, drifting. Instead, he has found his place, and quite possibly a sense of belonging, fulfillment, and happiness he never would have in his own. Watching him now as he meanders over to peer down at Mina, whispering sweet gibberish to her and entertaining her with funny faces, Belle’s whole chest swells full enough to feel as if it may burst with love and pride for him.

It hadn’t taken long, once things finally settled down with Rumple’s defeat, for them to set Liam up as Storybrooke’s harbormaster, monitoring the comings and goings from the town’s small port, making sure fishermen, pleasure boats, and all are lawfully satisfied and co-existing safely, as well as keeping the docks clean and well cared for. The question of why the coastal town didn’t already have such a person had led to Killian’s shamefaced explanation of Cora turning the last one into a fish when they had first arrived on his ship some years back, when he had still been a villain and in cahoots with her, looking on without protest. That poor man had actually been easily found once they knew – most large fish don’t linger right at the surface looking up at folks on the dock as if they want to be scooped out – and put back to rights, but he understandably wanted no part of his former position. Liam is good at the job, naturally suited for it as well as possessing experience, plus he loves it and finds fulfillment there – as he does with she and Mina – but Belle would never begrudge him the exhilaration on his face, the twinkle in his eyes and the windswept hair when he returns from a day on the water. It does her heart good to see him so satisfied.

Liam has just glanced back to her, a mischievous quirk to his smile that make her nerve endings tingle just knowing he is about to cross the room in those ground-eating long strides and sweep her into his arms for a kiss, just like the dashing gallant men in her books whom she has dreamed of since she was a young girl. Her handsome hero found her at last. Her sailor has taken his first step toward her ladder perch when they hear the library’s main door open. They smile at each other wryly, knowing just how Emma and Killian have felt for so long, always being interrupted, the sparkle of ‘later’ a promise in both of their eyes when they hear Henry call out a greeting a moment before he appears around the corner of the stacks. 

“Hey Grandma!” he greets playfully, though she will soon be his aunt. “Uncle Liam,” he adds with a happy bob of his head. Mina squeals with glee from her spot at the sound of Henry’s voice, equating it with bottles and stories the young man has been only to happy to provide while Belle feeds her many evenings after whole family dinners.

Henry grins, blushing with pride in an endearing way at the babe’s recognition of him, and both Liam and Belle look on the sweet scene with love as the teen moves over to greet his young cousin, leaning over to the edge of her crib to speak with her and dangling his fingers for her to grab. Clearly, he has come on a mission though, because once Mina has settled a bit, cooing occasionally still but calm, Henry turns back to them and steps forward, and a question clearly on his mind.

“So,” he opens tentatively, looking from one to the other’s expectant face and then plunging on, “Violet’s birthday is next week, and I want to give her something she’ll really enjoy, and something she’ll know is from me. I’m just not sure what. If I ask Killian, he’ll give me too dramatic, grand gesture ideas – things I can’t pull off – and neither of my moms want us getting too serious for our age, whatever that means, so they’ll just suggest something nice but generic!” He looked up, his brow wrinkled as if personally offended by that last bit. “She’s special,” he concludes after a short pause, “not every girl would understand all the crazy that comes with this family. Anyway… I was hoping maybe you two would have some ideas.”

“Well,” Liam ponders, smiling down at Henry paternally, a hand to his shoulder for a moment. “We’re honored, aren’t we, Darling?”

“Of course,” Belle agrees happily, her clever eyes sparkling in such a way that it’s clear she is already thinking on his request and simply bursting with ideas. Giving Liam a swift, silent glance; the two of them seem so in tune as to exchange a bit of conversation without speaking aloud at all.

He nods his assent, and then looks back to his nephew, offering. “Well, Lad, you want something that says it’s from you and speaks of your connection, things the two of you have shared… What about a book? You are the Author after all. You met Violet in a land straight out of storybook and legend, and it is my understanding the two of you made quite a journey to a faraway city to see another library much larger than this one. Perhaps the written word would be the most fitting symbol?”

Belle nods vigorously, clearly full of suggestions if he seems interested. “Oh yes, Henry! Books make the best gifts!” She gestures a bit too excitedly causing the ladder to sway, and Liam to quickly steady it with his large hands.

“Easy there, Lass!” he says with doting, humored affection.

Henry shakes his head at them, both at the suggestion he should have seen coming, and at the fact that they are becoming almost as sickeningly sweet as his mom and Killian. This makes sense, but there are so many books to choose from – so many stories – and Violet has been so understanding, so patient and supportive through so much craziness. He really wants this gift to say thank you, to be just right for her and show her how special she is – just how very much she means to him. Tilting his head slightly in thought, he offers, “Okay, a book does seem right, I’ll admit, but which one?”

Liam speaks up first, “I’ve always found tales of adventure and valor to be the most gripping reads, especially if set at sea, but perhaps those aren’t the most suited to courtship or a young lady’s interests…”

“Depends on the young lady,” Belle counters with an arched brow from her perch, making Henry snort a surprised guffaw at her quick comeback. 

Liam merely nods to his love in deference, “Point taken. What about poetry?” he asks Henry. “Do women not still love Shakespeare’s sonnets or the other blokes with romantic verse…um, Keats? Or Browning, maybe?”

Belle thinks for a moment. “Browning is lovely,” she muses, “but isn’t poetry a bit predictable? Too obvious?”

Liam is the one who snorts this time, shaking his head at them both. “Predictable?” he challenges, “or popular because it works?”

“Fair enough,” Belle concedes, grinning at his antics and thinking once more that now she knows the older brother and role model, her friend Killian’s quick-witted banter, his sense of humor, and his gentlemanly manner, and his caring nature all make perfect sense. Still, after a moment beaming at him, she turns to Henry once more. “Poetry wouldn’t be a bad choice, Henry. But, I have another idea. Violet strikes me as not being too fussy – despite the time and place she hails from. I can’t help but think she would enjoy a bit of adventure and humor with her love stories.” She tilts her head in consideration then stretches far enough off to her left that Liam jumps to counteract the motion from below, overprotective but determined to be there if she would fall. However, this time the petite librarian manages without mishap, straightening up with a small, gilt-edged red leather-bound book. “What if you tried your mom’s favorite?”

Henry looks puzzled for a moment, then flushes as Belle hands the tome she has laid hold of to him and he glimpses the title. “The Princess Bride…Oh, like the movie?” he asks, “Did they make it from this book? Mom did just have Killian watch this at our last movie night!”

The young Author opens the book curiously and begins to leaf through the open pages, reading passages. “How’d you know this was Mom’s favorite?” he asks after a few minutes.

“She told me once,” Belle says. “That, and she checked it out several times in the first couple of years she was here in town…said she’d loved it since she was your age. Tell you what,” Belle says, “You keep that – regardless. The library could stand to have a more recent printing anyway.”

“Thanks!” Henry exclaims brightly, smile wide as he looks to her and Liam. “You guys were a lot of help. I do think Violet will like this!”

He talks with them a few more minutes, but before long Henry is bidding his goodbyes and heading on. Belle smiles after him, and then turns to see Liam doing the same, looking after the young man with genuine affection. 

Belle reaches out to take his hand in hers, smiling up at him, just marveling at the genuine, sensitive caring he has for all those he loves, and as he gazes back at her, she marvels at the openness in his eyes – no secrets or holding back. He wants to let her in, to share a life in which she has an equal part, and she cannot help but lift his palm to her lips and kiss it in this moment. This love is so different from what she’d grown used to, and she is grateful for that.

“What is it, Lass?” Liam asks softly, a gentle smile on his face at her action and the soft smile she is directing at him. When she pulls back from the kiss to his hand, he simply pulls their joined ones to press over his heart.

She merely shrugs at him easily. “You’re pretty wonderful, Captain Jones. That’s all. You know that, don’t you?”

He shakes his head and flushes red, making him even more adorable, “If I’m wonderful, which I am not so sure about, Love. It is only because you have given me a way to show it.”

~~~~~ 000000 ~~~~~

That night finds them relaxed at home on the long, cushy couch they have put in the corner of Mina’s nursery, for nights like this when they want to relax together but still want to watch over their little girl a bit longer. Mina Collette herself has been asleep for at least an hour, her lovely long eyelashes fluttering gently against her cheeks as she dreams of whatever sweet and innocent things are viewed in infant slumber. Not a sound but the occasional small snuffle or peaceful little sigh comes from the crib. 

Belle and Liam revel in the quiet of the moonlit shadows around the room, a lovely calm settling over the space – allowing them to relax and simply be. After some coaxing, Liam has stretched out on the couch, his head resting in his love’s lap, stretching the knee that had been twisted slightly when some crates took a tumble and he dove to catch them – once he had returned to work at the docks that afternoon. It is nothing really; he has had much worse in his long life and afterlife, but it seems to please his lady to tend him, to offer help and have her expertise and caring be accepted. He knows she has spent too long being disregarded, kept in the dark, or left out of affairs of which she had every right to be part, and so he had let her fuss without comment. Truth be told, though he knows Belle is not magic as Killian’s Emma is, he finds that his lovely brunette’s very touch is as soothing to him as any cure could be.

For her part, Belle runs her fingers through her sailor’s tight, close-cropped curls, marveling at their softness and the vulnerable way he gave himself up to her ministrations – knowing it did her as much good as it would really do him. She pauses for a moment in the reading she had been doing, aloud, for the both of them to enjoy and looks around, savoring this cozy nursery room and this little cottage at the edge of Storybrooke’s forest, the shore in view from their back porch; her whole life now compared to the turmoil and sadness of just before and at Mina’s birth a mere half year ago. So much has changed, and for the better, that it almost takes her breath away.

“Alright there, Lass?” Liam’s voice questions, low and relaxed, but he still senses her thinking as she pauses and wants to make sure she is alright.

Belle shakes her head gently as she comes back to the present and glances down to meet Liam’s eyes, brushing light fingertips over his brow. “More than alright,” she whispers softly, not wanting to disturb the perfect tranquility of this moment. “This is the life I always wanted,” she explains softly. “I can’t believe sometimes that I am finally living it.”

“Aye,” Liam affirms in a warm murmur, reaching out to twine the fingers of her free hand with his, his larger digits almost fully enveloping her own and bringing their joined hands to his chest. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Mina gives a sleepy little coo from her crib, and he and Belle share another smile at her peaceful sleep; despite her rough beginning, the infant seems to have all her mother’s determination and pluck, bearing no ill effects of the first few tumultuous days of her young life and sleeping soundly without the fears that haunt those who have lived a bit longer.

“Let’s read a bit more, shall we?” Belle suggests eagerly. Her enthusiasm for someone who will share the written word she loves so much with her both endearing and contagious.

“Certainly, Lass… if you aren’t tired of reading, that is. In fact, this reminds me of long ago – one of the few pleasant memories of Killian and my time on that ship as boys. Some nights in that dark hold, if the sea was rough or if we’d been sent to our bunks without food, Killian couldn’t sleep. I’d find the stub of a candle and a bit of flint to strike, and read to him. He was voracious in his love of stories, adored hearing the words read aloud, even if all I was able to find was a discarded page of some log or a shipping order.” He chuckles softly, and then continues, “Having you read to me now, like this, in our home together… I can see why he loved it so.”

Belle blinks a bit through misty eyes, watching Liam’s face as he speaks. Picturing the two frightened, mistreated, and abandoned young boys they had been, hearing what they had gone through, and knowing especially the worry and pain Liam had endured in feeling responsible for his younger brother but often not being able to do much for him, always affected her so. For the moment though, she pushes that sympathetic ache aside; just as her worst days are behind her now, so are her captain’s. This moment they have now is beautiful, and she isn’t ready for it to end. “I’m glad,” she replies, scanning the page to find where they had left off in Longfellow’s poem once more, and picking it up again, “Ah! What pleasant visions haunt me as I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, All my dreams, come back to me…”

She reads with lilting cadence, and Liam hums softly, as if approving the words, looking so comfortable and pleased as he lies there before her, eyes closed and nearly drifting off, he could almost be a cat purring as one strokes behind its ears. She smiles even more brightly as she comes to the final stanza, “Til my soul is full of longing for the secrets of the sea, and the heart of the great ocean sends a thrilling pulse through me.”

Upon finishing, Belle closes the book gently, sitting it on the end table at her elbow and turning off the one lamp still lit in the room. She almost believes Liam truly asleep, until he turns slightly, pressing his face to her warm stomach through her robe.

“That was lovely, Belle.” His whispered words send tingles along her skin deliciously, the love in his voice clear. “Thank you.”

Neither of them move, content to be in this moment as long as it can possibly last. To be here now, Liam thinks in the softness of long, blue shadows and the moonlight’s glow on Belle’s pale, perfect face, makes all his long struggle worthwhile.


End file.
